7 


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OF 
i      THE  UNIVERSITY 
i       OF  CALIFORNIA 
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j   CALIFORNIA  ST  TE  LIBRARY    J 

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1  10 

I 

a  or 

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i  be 

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I  101910 


RANDOLPH    GORDON. 


OUIDA'S    WORKS. 


Granville  de  Vigne  . 
Strath more      .... 

ClIANDOS  .... 

Idalia       ..... 

Under  Two  Flags 

Tricotrin  .... 

Puck 

Folle-Farine    .... 

Pascarel       .... 

Two  Little  Wooden  Shoes     . 

Cecil  Castlemaine's  Gage 

Randolph  Gordon    . 

Beatrice  Boville 

A  Leap  in  the  Storm  (8vo.     Paper.) 


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These  Novels  are  universally  acknowledged  to  be  the  most 
powerful  and  fascinating  works  of  fiction  which  the  present 
century,  so  prolific  in  light  reading,  has  produced. 

The  above  are  handsomely  and  uniformly  bound  in  cloth, 
12mo  form,  and  are  for  sale  by  booksellers  generally,  or  will 
be  sent  by  mail,  postage  paid,  on  receipt  of  price  by 

J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT   &   CO.,  Publishers, 

715  and  717  Market  St.,  Philadelphia. 


RANDOLPH  GORDON 


AND 


> 


OTHER  STOEIES. 


-%&* 


•  ^ 


BY 


"OUIDA," 


AUTHOR    OF 


"CECIL  CASTLEMAINE'S   GAGE,"     "IDALIA,"     "GRANVILLE 
DE   VIGNE,"    "  STRATHMORE,"    CHANDOS,"    ETC.,  ETC.. 


kcowA  §>mj»s. 


PHILADELPHIA: 
J.   B.   LIPPINCOTT   &   CO, 

187  4. 


CONTENTS. 


BANDOLPH  GOKDON. 

/  PART  THE  FIRST. 

I.— Our  Corps,  and  who  Composed  it 9 

II.— How  Sunshine,  Pearl,  and  Rosebud  shot  at  Bull's-eyes  and  Hit 

other  Marks 21 

PART  THE  SECOND. 

HI.— How  a  Silver  Bugle  sounded  different  Notes,  and  Randolph 

lost  a  Pony-race 30 

PART  THE   THIRD. 

IV.— How  Randolph  and  I  Sinned  and  Confessed  it,  and  how  we  got 

Pardon  and  Penance 47 

V.— How  Spiritualistic  Agency  was  brought  in  for  Material  Pur- 
poses   57 

HOW  ONE  FIKE  LIT  ANOTHEB. 

I.— ROYSTON  TRE VELYAN 77 

II.— Florestine  Luard 86 

ill.— Our  Little  Queen  forms  her  Household 99 

IV.— My  Photograph  raises  a  Whirlwind no 

V.— Sunshine  after  Storm 120 

THE  MARQUIS'S  TACTICS. 

I — Lord  Glen's  Preliminary  Shots 135 

II. — How  the  Marquis  began  the  Campaign 141 

III.— How  Lord  Glen  congratulated  himself  on  his  Victory 150 

T.— How  our  Bet  was  Drawn 158 


tf~v  *"*  d~+  a  rf"»  r* 


VI  CONTENTS. 

BLUE  AND  YELLOW. 

i.— fltz  goes  down  by  the  express,  and  makes  an  acquaintance  en 

Route 169 

C— Beau  begins  one  Canvas  and  Fitz  Another 180 

III.— CuriD  gives  Beau  more  trouble  than  all  the  Blues 188 

rv.— The  Radical  Candidate  beats  the  Popular  Preacher  out  of  the 

Field 199 

V.— Fitz  wins  One  Election  and  loses  Another 209 

BELLES  AND  BLACKCOCK 

I.— Over  the  Hills  and  far  Away 231 

II.— We  bag  Blackcock  and  mark  Belles 239 

III.— The  Little  Diamond  in  the  Desert . 253 

IV.— The  Gowan   of  the  Moors    grows    more   attractive  than  the 

Game 269 

V. — The  light  on  the  Moors  shines  again  for  Dtneley 280 

HOW  I  WAS  TKACKED  BY  TBAPPEES. 

L— The  Acquaintance  I  made  on  board  the  "the  Lord  Warden". ..293 

II.— How,  not  owing  a  Centime,  I  was  still  plunged  into  Debt 301 

III.— How  I  fell  among  Thieves 308 

TBENTE-ET-UN. 

I.— The  Acquaintance  I  made  in  the  Train  to  Baden 323 

II.— How  the  two  Rivals  fought  for  Empire 331 

ILL— How  Circe  conquered 336 

THE  DONKEYSHTBE  MILITIA. 

I.— Lennox  Dunbar 347 

II.— Beatrice  de  Yaux 354 

IIL— The   Review,  and  the   Presentation   of  the   Colors   by   Beat- 
bice 364 

IV.— How  Dunbar  went  to  the  Miss  Toffys'  Box  at  the  Snobleton 

Theatre,  and  thereby  put  his  Foot  in  it 374 

V.— A  Ball— an  Accident— and  a  Wedding 377 


RANDOLPH  GORDON. 


PAKT  THE  FIRST. 

I. 

OUR   CORPS,    AND   WHO    COMPOSED   IT. 

I  am  sorry  to  record  it,  our  county  is  a  very  big  fel- 
low ou  the  map,  and  it  is  very  celebrated  for  corn,  cattle, 
and  cheese,  as  the  geography  says,  whose  kindly  allitera- 
tion helped  me  to  escape  the  dire  wrath  of  that  odious 
governess  of  my  sister's  who  first  made  study  hateful  to 
me  when  I  was  a  httle  chap  in  the  nursery;  our  county 
is  picturesque,  fruitful,  and  aristocratic,  but  it  is  a 
weathercock,  as  twirling  and  whirling  and  changing  a 
girouette  as  the  very  fierce  cock  who  sits  on  the  top  of 
our  village  church,  looking  as  tremendous  as  the  Gallic 
cock  looks  in  alarmists'  letters,  but  in  reality  is  only 
innocently  ready  for  squalls,  as  perhaps  the  Gallic  cock 
is  too,  desperately  as  we  vilify  him. 

Our  county  is  a  weathercock,  and  changes  its  manners 
as  a  beauty  her  dresses,  careful  only  of  one  thing — to  be 
in  the  fashion.  "When  Uncle  Tom  was  the  popular  idol, 
we  talked  of  nothing  but  niggers;  in  '54,  we  were  solely 
Crimean,  and  ladies,  working  away  at  Chersonnese  com- 
forters, almost  wished  the  war  were  in  England,  that 
1* 


10  RANDOLPH  GORDON. 

they  might  have  "  those  darlings "  near  them,  ignorant 
of  the  fact  that  when  the  darlings  were  bayoneted,  and 
they  pinned  against  the  wall  till  they  told  where  their 
jewelry  was  hidden,  the  proximity  would  not  have  been 
altogether  so  pleasurable.  In  '58,  we  were  petris  with 
Indian  mutiny,  and  would  not  hear  of  any  massacre  that 
was  not  most  frightfully  and  impossibly  horrible,  or  of 
any  vengeance  less  than  the  instant  impaling  of  every 
separate  Hindoo;  and  now,  of  course,  we,  who  talked  the 
most  beautiful  Odes  to  Peace  that  can  be  imagined  when 
the  Great  Exhibition  was  up,  and  would  have  turned  our 
swords  into  ploughshares  if  any  agriculturists  had  taken 
a  fancy  to  use  such  implements,  have  veered  round  the 
other  way,  and  have  fallen  down  before  butts,  Long  En- 
fields,  and  cock's-tails,  in  the  worship  common  just  now 
to  all  England.  We  were  a  little  bitten  with  Garibald- 
ism,  and,  should  the  promised  February  campaign  come 
on,  nothing  will  go  down  but  a  man  who  has  fired  a  shot 
in  the  Calabrian  battle;  but  at  present  we  are  inoculated 
with  volunteering  as  strongly  as  small  boys  with  passion 
for  smoking,  or  city  dandies  with  that  abominable 
patchouli,  a  whiff  of  which  would  have  killed  poor  Brum- 
mel,  who  counselled  us,  "No  perfumes,  only  country- 
washed  linen." 

YvThen  the  Toadyshire  Militia  was  all  in  its  glory,  the 
county  thought  nothing  ever  would  equal  them;  but 
militia  are  gone  down  now — so  very  far  down  as  to  be 
clean  out  of  sight  and  out  of  mind,  and  nothing  is  heard 
of  but  the  Volunteer  Eifles.  Sweetly  bray  the  bran-new 
bugles  down  road  and  street,  through  town  and  country; 
swiftly  through  the  turnpikes  dash  scores  of  those  pep- 
per-salt coats,  whose  wearing  saves  their  gallant  owners 
from  all  twopenny  taxations;  pop  go  our  rifles  all  the 
livelong  day,  with  a  crack  of  doom  which,  we  believe, 


RANDOLPH   GORDON.  11 

must  shake  the  Tuileries  to  its  foundations;  the  cock- 
tails we  require  must  have  shorn  every  barn-door  mon- 
arch in  the  kingdom;  ladies  give  up  their  thirteenth  new 
bonnet  to  subscribe  for  our  silver  bugles;  and  the  stiffest 
of  governors,  who  would  not  let  us  out  with  a  latch-key 
to  save  our  lives,  believes,  without  a  murmur,  that  we 
have  been  at  the  butt  till  midnight.  We  can  cover  any 
short-comings  we  like  with  the  patriotic  click  of  out 
blessed  rifles;  our  mothers  and  wives  fully  accredit  us 
when  we  tell  them  we  have  spent  the  evening  in  practis- 
ing, though,  if  we  made  any  other  excuse,  they  would 
pounce  straightway  with  feminine  shrewdness  on  suspi- 
cion of  that  "  abominable  little  fright  at  the  cigar-shop," 
or  that  "  detestable  man  CajDtain  Birdseye,  who  teaches 
you  such  bad  habits;"  en  un  mot,  our  county  in  toto  is 
gone  mad  about  rifles,  and  its  capital,  Boshcunibury,  in 
particular,  turns  out  to  a  gamin,  and  shouts,  as  Duke 
Constantine  when  he  saw  the  Guards,  "  Ces  homines 
marchent  comme  des  dieux!"  when  they  behold  us, 
tramping  in  our  small  boys'  bugle  calls,  self-confident  as 
Alexander,  patriotic  as  Hermanicus,  our  cock-tails  wav- 
ing grandly  as  the  Roman  eagles,  each  rifle  as  omnipo- 
tent as  "William  Tell's  bow;  and  we — the  West  Groosestep 
Volunteers — if  we  never  do  anything  else  more  martial, 
at  least  have  carried  our  county  by  storm.  We  are  in 
very  large  numbers;  we  swarm,  in  fact;  we  are  tall  and 
short;  we  are  fat  and  lean;  we  are  of  all  statures,  from 
that  of  Daniel  Lambert  to  that  of  Jefferey  Hudson,  which 
is  somewhat  detrimental  to  the  comparison  to  the  gods, 
mentioned  above;  but,  n'importe,  we  are  Yolunteers, 
and  our  uniform  does  what  charity  is  stated,  but  never 
discovered  to  do — cover  a  multitude  of  sins,  and  what  is 
much  more  detrimental  to  a  man  in  feminine  eyes  than 
the  biggest  sin  he  can  commit,  personal  defects;  and  to  be 


12  RANDOLPH   GOEDON. 

cased  in  it  passes  over  a  man's  sliort-comings  in  Toady- 
shire,  as  to  be  roiled  up  in  a  black  sermon-case  or  printed 
by  a  religious  publisher  passes  over  bad  English  and  false 
reasoning,  which  would  be  pulled  up  mercilessly  if  found 
in  an  "  exceptional  novel,"  whatever  that  new  style  of  ro- 
mance may  be  in  these  raffine  days,  when  Henry  Field- 
ing, I  presume,  would  have  had  the  circulating  libraries' 
doors  shut  upon  him  lest  he  should  demoralize  the  mor- 
als of  his  readers,  who  must  all  be  under  age,  I  suppose, 
if  they  cannot  be  trusted  to  choose  their  literature  for 
themselves. 

Our  corps  presents  every  possible  variety  of  that  genus 
homo  concerning  whose  parentage  Mr.  Huxley  answered 
the  Bishop  of  Oxford  so  wittily  the  other  day.  There  is 
my  cousin,  Randolph  Gordon,  of  Eton  Chase,  who  had 
been  captain  and  lieutenant-colonel  in  the  Guards,  till 
knocking  down  another  man  for  killing  a  pet  dog  of  his 
with  a  savage  kick,  led  to  a  duel,  which  led,  in  turn,  to 
his  selhng  out  nolens  volens,  and  who,  having  one  of  the 
finest  j)laces  in  the  county,  was  applied  to,  to  head  the 
"movement;"  there  is  Freddy  Audley,  twenty-two,  five 
feet  three,  pretty  as  a  girl,  and  as  afraid  of  wetting  his 
feet  as  his  maiden  Aunt  Clementina's  pet  Tom;  there  is 
Lacquers,  of  Grassmere,  who,  having  a  dragon  of  a  wife, 
and  a  secret  and  unholy  passion  for  cards,  returns  daily 
thanks  for  the  volunteer  movement,  that  enables  him  to 
have  such  snug  loo  parties  sub  rosa  at  the  Angel  in  Snob- 
bleton,  and  to  go  home  looking  innocent  and  professedly 
fagged  to  death  with  his  patriotic  efforts  to  hit  the  bull's- 
eye;  there  is  old  Turbot,  tke  town  clerk,  who  suffers 
frightfully  in  struggling  into  his  uniform  and  in  frantic 
efforts  to  buckle  his  belt,  but  who  sleeps  with  his  Enfield 
under  his  pillow,  in  constant  apprehension  of  burglarious 
approaches  from  Louis  Napoleon;  there  is  little  Jemmy 


RANDOLPH   GORDON.  13 

Fitzpop,  wlio  went  to-day  to  Boulogne,  firmly  impressed 
that  the  sight  of  his  harness,  which  he  persists  in  sport- 
ing on  all  possible  and  impossible  occasions,  will  produce 
such  an  effect  on  French  nerves  as  will  mate  them  quiet 
by  force  of  terror,  as  his  used  to  be  at  whisper  of  "  Bo- 
gey;" there  is  Bassompierre  Delafield,  the  pet  physician 
of  Snobbleton,  who   shares   the   town-worship  with  the 
popular  preacher  of  St.  Faithandgrace,  who,  being  of  a 
nervous,  not   to   say   timorous   character,  suffers   silent 
agonies  when  he  hears  the  rear  rank  man  capping  at  full- 
cock,  and  feels  in  vivid  imaginings  a  little  accidental  jar 
discharging  all  the  contents  of  the  barrel  sans  ceremonie 
into  his  spinal  cord;  there  is   little   Beak,  the  coroner, 
who,  not  content  with  holding  inquests  on  the  accidental 
deaths  that  fill  his   purse,  does  his  very  best  to   cause 
them  when  aspiring  to  be   martial,  and,  forgetting   his 
gun's  not  a  quill,  carries  his  rifle  in  such  a   gracefully 
laisser  aller  manner,  that  it  went  off  the  other  day  in  a 
totally  unexpected   freak,  and   singing   playfully  on   its 
path,  grazed  a  knife-grinder's  donkey,  carried  a  bunch  of 
wheat-ears  off  a  lady's  bonnet,  bowled  between   Piper, 
the  mayor's,  little  fat  legs,  causing  him   next   door   to 
apoplexy,  and   finally  lodged   itself  in  a  perambulator, 
whose  nurse  fled,  with  a  shrill  shriek,  into  the  murderous 
Beak's  paralysed  arms,  leaving  her  unharmed  charge  in 
infantine  calm,  the  only  individual  present  that  wasn't  in 
hysterics  or  a  syncope;  there  is  Simmons,  the  cashier  at 
the  bank,  who,  from  the  first  hour  he  was  at  drill,  when 
he   pricked   Doddington,  the  county-court  judge's   son, 
with  the  point  of  his  bayonet,  causing  grave   Dodd  to 
jump  in  a  most  unpremeditated  and  un-Spartan  manner, 
has  never  gone  through  the  manoeuvres  right  as  yet,  and 
never  will,  it  is  my  firm  belief,  till  he  marches  shoulder 
to  shoulder  with  Ulysses  in  the  Elysian  Fields;  there  is 


14  RANDOLPH   GORDON. 

v;  >ur  humble  serviteur  myself,  Cosmo  Lyle,  who  am  in  it 
because  the  governor  is  Colonel-commandant,  a  county 
member,  and  a  very  opinionated  individual,  riding,  as  his 
present  hobby,  that  England  can  only  be  saved  by  the 
crack  of  Long  Enfields,  as  at  the  Great  Exhibition   he 
held   it  was  to  be  saved  by  peace  at  any  price,  at   the 
Spithead  review  by  Jack  Tar,  and  at  the  era  of  the  Alma 
by  "the  Queen's"  (who,  when  they're  wanted,  are  called 
"  our  gallant  troops,"  but,  when  they've  done  the  service, 
get  grumbled  at  as  a  "standing  army;")  and  there  are, 
besides  us,  innumerable  lawyers  and  bankers  and  gentry 
of  all  degrees;  clerks,  who  are  dreaming  of  platoon  fir- 
ing while  drawing   up  settlements;   drapers,  who  catch 
themselves  bringing  their  measure  well  up  to  shoulder, 
to  the  imminent  peril  of  affrighted  customers'  eyes;  gro- 
cers, whose  martial  eyes  flash  at  the  mere  sight  of  the 
delicious  word  "Gunpowder"  on  their  tea-papers;  hair- 
dressers, who  lacerate  their  subjects  in  the  most  terrible 
manner  in  their  having  to  fling  down  their  razor  for  their 
rifle— gentry,  in  fact,  who   made   Boshcumbury  and  all 
Toady  shire  the  fac  simile  of  Edinburgh  when  the  "  Anti- 
quary" saw   it,   bitten   with   martial   hydrophobia,   and 
found  his  solicitor's  quill  turned  to  a  sabre,  and  his  phy- 
sician learning  to  kill  instead  of  cure,  and  all  the  world 
gone  volunteer-crazy,  as  he  tells  us  in  his  racy  Scotch. 
And  the  women  are  gone  as  mad  about  us;  not  for  our 
beauty,  for  our  jackets,  like  Mr.  Tupman's  brigand  jacket 
at  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter's  fete;  our  sleeves,  so  symmetrically 
fall  at  the  top  and  meagre  at  the  bottom,  our  little  hats, 
with  those  wonderful  before-mentioned  panaches  de  co-] 
waving   therefrom,   like   the   little   funny   forelock   with 
which  poor  old  Time  is  always  decorated,  are  not  em- 
bellishing; at  least,  not  to  my  fancy,  though  little  Fitz- 
pop,  and  a  good  many  others  I  could  mention,  will  think 


RANDOLPH   GORDON.  15 

it  treason  for  me  to  say  so,  deeming,  I  believe,  that  it  is 
the  perfection  of  neatness,  elegance,  and  military  sty1,  s, 
and  that  the  Belvedere  Apollo  himself  would  look  even 
more  superb  if  we  could  deck  his  marble  limbs  in  volun- 
teer uniform.     N'importe,   the   women   have   lost   their 
pretty  little,  glossy,  empty  heads  after  us,  and  cherished 
pets,  the  parsons,  are  at  a  discount — so  much  at  a  dis- 
count, that  one  daring  young  curate,  driven  to  despera- 
tion at  the  contempt  his  black  surplice  met  with  from 
his  quasi-worshippers,  joined  us,  seeing  no  reason  why  he 
shouldn't  fight,  like  William  of  Ely,  and  got  lectured,  en 
consequence,  in  humiliating  style,  by  his  diocesan,  who 
forbade  him  all  combat,  save  that   peculiar  privilege  of 
parsons  and  spinsters,  the  war  of  words.     Our  file-firing 
has  taken  all  the  shine  out  of  pulpit  philippics,  and  the 
assembly  and  the  roll-call  drown  the  bell  for  early  ma- 
tins, to  which  the  fair  daughters  of  the  Church  used  to 
swarm  in  flocks  to  the  sanctuary  of  their  best-looking  and 
biggest-whiskered  high-priests.     They  are  all  at   a   dis- 
count; nothing  goes  down  but  the  Toadyshire  Rifles,  and 
even  little  Fitzpop,  that  infinitesimal  morsel,  that  small- 
est of  small  boys,  who  could  be  put  under  his  own  cock- 
plumed  tile,  as  Robin  used  to  put  his  wife  under  the  ex- 
tinguisher, brags  of  his  being  a  "  a  good  soldier,"  (!)  and 
gets  petted  by  the  ladies  who  six  months  ago  gave  him 
sugar-plums,  because  he  is  a  "  defender  of  his  country," 
and  carries  a  rifle  that  is  longer  than  himself. 

There  is  but  one  heterodox  sceptic  and  scoffer  in  Toady- 
shire; she  will  persist  in  making  fun— most  cruel  fun — ■ 
of  us.  "Learn  to  shoot,  most  noble  seigneurs,  it's  the 
very  best  thing  you  can  do,  but,  for  Heaven's  sake,  don't 
call  yourselves  soldiers  !  Soldiers,  indeed !  a  lot  of  law- 
yers, and  bankers,  and  merchants,  and  brewers,  and  gro- 
cers, and  tailors,  who  just  pop  away  at  a  butt,  out  of  bus- 


16  RANDOLPH   GORDON. 

iness  hours !"  cries  that  most  mechante  and  provoking 
of  all  pretty  women,  with  a  toss  of  her  chestnut-haired, 
gold-netted  head,  who  takes  a  malicious  delight  in  scoff- 
ing at  the  Goosestep  Volunteers,  at  all  the  great  things 
we  plan,  and  all  the  small  things  we  do,  just  because  she 
is  the  idol  before  whom  the  majority  of  our  corps  do 
most  love  to  bow  and  tumble  down  in  abject  humiliation. 
This  abominable  little  unbeliever  is  Miss  Fanny's  (Fred 
Audley'syou  know)  sister.     He  has  three  of  them;  what 
their  nom  de  bapteme  may  be,  I  hardly  believe  I  know 
to  this  day;  everybody  that  ever  I  heard  calls  them  Sun- 
shine, Pearl,  and  Rosebud — poetic  nicknames  given  them 
in  the  nursery  from  their  respective  exteriors,  and  clinging 
to  them,  as  nicknames  generally  do,  ever  since.     Freddy 
and  his  sisters  dwell  with  their  maiden  aunt,  Miss  Clem- 
entina  Audley,  who,  though   possessing  Audley  Court, 
and  much  property  in  those  weather-glasses  of  political 
affairs,  the  funds,  is  Miss  Clementina   still,  so   rigid   a 
martinet  that  we  did  think  of  her  for  commandant  of 
our  corps,  and  so  petrie  with  conventionalities,  that  she 
is  generally  supposed  to  be  the  author  of  those  mysteri- 
ous works  on  etiquette,  whose  manufacture  must  eman- 
ate from  such  a  very  rare  and  peculiar  stamp  of  genius, 
that  it  is  a  pity  we  refuse  so  obstinately  to  follow  their 
rules.     Freddy  is  her  heir,  and   she  pets  him  much  as 
she  pets  her  black  Tom,  which  she  elegantly  christens 
Koh-i-noor,  but  which  the  girls  send  her  straight  into 
hysterics  by  calling  Saturnus  and  the  Diable  a.  Quatre. 
Her  nieces  are  her  betes  noires.     Freddy  is  quiet,  lady- 
like, and,  for   his   silky  hair,  his   aversion  to    cold,  his 
affection  for  soft  cushions,  and  laziness,  exactly  like  his 
co-pet    the    black   Tom.      But   the    girls?     "They   are 
dreadful,"  Miss   Clementina   informs  her  bosom  friend, 
Mrs.    Tomtit,  the  vicaress;  "  they   are   never  still,  they 


RANDOLPH   GORDON.  17 

are  never  quiet;  they  ride  as  become  only  rough-riders; 
they  play  battledore   and   shuttlecock   in   the   picture- 
gallery,    till  the  horrible  pat,  pat,    pat,  of  these  odious 
things  are  enough  to  drive  anybody  distracted,"  she  as- 
sures her,  "to  say  nothing  of  the  waste  of  time;  they 
do  nothing  that's  useful;  they   can't  work;  if  Sunshine 
did  try  to  make  a  cobweb  pocket-handkerchief,  she  took 
a  needle  the  size  of  a  hedge-stake;  they  can  only  make 
one's   head   ache   almost  to   vertigo,  with    singing,  and 
playing;  they  talk  and  laugh  so  ridiculously,  all  through 
breakfast  and   dinner,  that   they  hardly  know  whether 
they  are  eating  grouse  or  broad  beans,  mock  turtle  or 
skilligalee;    and    their    conduct    with    gentlemen — she 
believes  it  passes  now  under  that  odious  new  word,  flir- 
tation, but "  And   Miss   Clementina  throws   up  her 

eyes  and  hands,  and  thinks  of  the  modest  and  maidenly 
times  of  her  girlhood,  when  D'Orville  bowed  over  Evel- 
ina's hand  when  she  had  promised  to  be  his  wife,  and 
knelt  down,  respectfully,  to  touch  that  main  blanche 
with  his  moustaches,  when  he  had  rescued  her  from  a 
yawning  tomb.  What  a  pity  it  was  all  that  modesty 
and  maidenhness  were  unappreciated  by  the  sex  who 
could  have  rewarded  them,  and  that  where  these  demor- 
alized young  ladies  had  twenty  soupireurs,  Miss  Clemen- 
tina had  not  had  one  ! 

At  Audley  Court  our  corps  was  worshipped.  Freddy 
was  in  them  (Frederick  Augustus  she  termed  him;)  that 
was  enough  for  Miss  Clementina,  who  having,  moreover, 
horrible  visions  of  ruthless  and  savage  Zonaves,  who 
would  break  one  night  in  on  her  slumbers,  and  behold 
her  in  all  the  sublimities  of  her  toilette  de  nuit  (a  sight, 
I  have  been  told,  quite  sufficient  in  itself  to  frighten  any 
amount  of  Zouaves  back  again  across  the  channel),  was 
filled  with  solemn  gratitude  towards  us  "British  legions,' 


18  RANDOLPH   GOEDON. 

as  she  grandly  termed  us,  and  poured  fearful  and  terri- 
ble abuse  upon  heterodox  Sunshine,  when  she  declared 
she  would  "  rather  have  one  troop  of  the  Queen's  to 
take  care  of  her  than  all  the  battalions  of  bourgeois  they 
could  muster."  Sunshine,  you  will  perceive,  was,  as  I 
say,  the  only  scoffer  in  Audley  Court  and  in  Toadyshire. 
Pearl  and  Rosebud  admired,  nay,  adored  us;  in  fact, 
gazed  on  our  evolutions  at  battalion  drill,  skii-mishing, 
forming  squares,  file  firing,  and  all  the  rest  of  it,  with 
worshipping  eyes,  and  had  started  a  subscription  for  a 
silver  bugle  for  us.  They  had  not  been  long  at  Audley 
Coiu-t,  when  the  "  movement "  began  which  has  heaved 
England  up  into  so  many  mounds  called  butts,  and  eleva- 
ted her  into  so  many  flat  portions  called  practising- 
grounds,  as  if  the  amount  of  powder  required  in  the 
country  had  produced  a  general  violent  earthquake. 
The  first  time  I  saw  them  was,  when  we  were  first 
formed,  just  budding,  just  beginning  to  enrol  ourselves, 
and  admire  ourselves,  and  swell  ourselves  into,  what  we 
are  just  now,  the  gallant  1st  West  Goosestep  Volunteer 
Eifles,  when  my  cousin,  Randolph  Gordon,  Freddy 
Audley,  and  I,  were  riding  home  from  drill  at  Snobbleton, 
and  were  passed  at  full  gallop  by  three  ponies,  with  young 
ladies  on  their  backs,  who  laughed  as  they  flashed  past  us. 

"  Take  care,  Freddy,  it  is  going  to  rain,  and  Aunt  Tina 
will  be  so  anxious  about  you !" 

"  Hallo  !  who  are  those  acquaintances  of  yours  ?"  said 
Gordon,  whose  eye-glass  was  up  in  a  second,  our  gal- 
lant captain  being  as  keen  after  pretty  women  as  a  ter- 
rier after  rats. 

"My  sisters,"  said  Fred,  rather  sulkily;  "they  are 
such  chaffy  girls,  they  make  game  of  everything." 

"  And  you  in  particular,  I  suppose  ?  "Well,  you  are 
rather  tempting,   Fanny,     By   George !  how  well  they 


RANDOLPH  GORDON.  19 

ride;  that  front  one  in  especial — wouldn't  she  go  straight 
over  a  bullfinch!" 

"  That's  Sunshine,"  said  Freddy,  still  gloomily;  "she's 
a  regular  little  devil." 

"  Vraiment !  that's  attractive,"  said  Eandolph.  "  Wo- 
men are  so  given  to  swearing  they're  angels,  and  the 
newspapers  to  repeating  it,  now-a-days,  when  they  take 
up  the  strict  morality  hue,  because  it  pays  cent,  per 
cent,  and  induces  '  the  clergy '  to  subscribe,  that  to 
hear  of  anybody  who's  a  little  demoniacal  is  a  positive 
treat.  She  hasn't  a  cloven  foot,  though,  I  hope,  because 
I  do  like  a  small  brodequin;  but  what  in  the  world  do 
you  call  her  ?" 

"Sunshine,"  yawned  Fred.  "Deuce  take  that  rifle, 
how  my  shoidder  aches !  That  ain't  her  name,  of  course, 
but  everybody  calls  her  so;  the  house  would  be  -as  dull 
as  death  without  her,  though  she  does  teaze  one  horri- 
bly.    She  makes  no  end  of  game  of  the  volunteers." 

"No  great  difficulty  to  do  that,  my  dear  fellow," 
laughed  Randolph.  "If  I  illustrated  for  Punch,  I'd 
engage  to  draw  some  scenes  from  the  life,  the  antithe- 
sis of  the  martial,  and  the  perfection  of  the  ludicrous: 
Little  Fitzpop,  who's  only  fit  to  shoot  sparrows  with  a 
popgun,  but  who  thinks  himself  individually  a  match 
for  a  whole  regiment  of  Chasseurs  Indiennes;  my  worthy 
Sergeant  Stitcher,  who  uncurls  his  legs  and  sets  down 
his  goose  to  come  and  play  at  soldiers  for  an  hour,  when 
he's  sent  home  Mr.  A.'s  coat  and  Mr.  B.'s  trousers; 
those  young  fellows  from  the  Bank,  who  jump  off  their 
stools  to  rush  at  their  uniforms  as  vehemently  as  they 
used  to  rush  at  the  inkstands  to  indite  sonnets  to  Miss 
Mary's  eyelash,  or  Miss  Emma's  flounces.  Oh,  you  are 
all  wonderfully  good  fun;  and  if  I  don't  laugh  when  I 
form   you   into   line  for  inspection  next  month,  I  shall 


20  RANDOLPH   GORDON. 

deserve  as  much  credit  as  an  alderman  who  doesn't  tum- 
ble when  he  backs  before  her  Majesty." 

"Confound  you!"   said   I,    "you,   too,    make   fun   of 
everything.     Why  the  deuce  did  you  join  us,  then  ?" 

"Because  I  was  solicited,  my  dear  Lyle,  and  a  man 
as  amiable  as  I  am  always  does  what  he's  asked.  Be- 
sides, sans  doute,  it's  a  very  good  movement;  all  move- 
ments are  that  tend  to  make  a  nation  strong,  self-reliant, 
and  able  to  take  care  of  itself;  all  those  countries  are 
greatest  where  the  use  of  arms  forms  a  part  of  every 
individual's  education.  En  meme  temps,  why  you 
should  all  trouble  yourselves  to  buy  cock-tailed  hats — 1 
assure  you  there's  no  particular  military  virtue  in  them — 
why  you  should  persist  in  going  about  in  uniform,  at  every 
unseemly  hour,  when  we,  the  lawful  owners  of  uniform, 
cast  it,  and  get  out  of  harness  and  into  mufti  as  soon  as 
ever  we  can;  why  you  make  such  fools  of  yourselves  by 
going  over  to  France,  and  exhibiting  your  bran-new  liv- 
ery, to  frighten  Napoleon's  four  hundred  thousand  men, 
and  brag  of  what  you  would  do  in  such  very  outrageous 
bad  taste,  I  can't  imagine;  and  while  you  will  persist  in 
such  betises,  I  must  make  game  of  you.  I'll  get  acquain- 
ted with  Miss — what  is  her  name? — Sunshine;  we  can 
have  some  chaff  together.  Come  in  and  dine  with  me; 
it  is  going  to  rain,  as  the  young  ladies  said,  and  the 
Goosestep  Volunteers  haven't  had  their  regulation  gol- 
oshes yet — have  they,  Audley?  Come  in;  I  can  prom- 
ise you  some  good  claret  and  some  first-rate  Latakia." 

"We  did  go  in,  and  had  a  very  jolly  evening  over  Ran- 
dolph's venison  and  olives.  His  place,  Eton  Chase,  hav- 
ing as  many  agremens  and  as  good  an  establishment  as 
the  epicurean  heart  of  man  could  desire,  though  he  did 
not  often  abide  there  to  enjoy  them,  having  certain  faith- 
less, restless  tastes  for  wandering,  and  an  attachment  to 


RANDOLPH  GORDON.  21 

excitement  and  pleasure  which  would  have  made  him 
supremely  wretched  to  be  tied  down  in  Toadyshire,  even 
though  one  of  the  lords  and  kings  of  that  very  stuck-up, 
hut,  I  must  confess,  not  very  brilliant  county. 


n. 


HOW  SUNSHTNE,  PEARL,  AND  EOSEBUD    SHOT   AT   BULL  S-EYES   AND 

HIT  OTHER   MARKS. 

Randolph  and  I  made  a  point  of  calling  at  Audley 
Court,  a  courtesy  we  had  always  confined  before  to  leav- 
ing cards,  when  we  were  quite  sure  Miss  Clementina  was 
out,  a  tete-a-tete  with  that  awful  lady  being  a  point  much 
too  far  for  the  politeness  of  either  of  us  to  stretch. 
Freddy  had  always  been  at  the  Court,  but  his  sisters  had 
lived  in  Ireland  with  their  mother's  sister,  till  she,  going 
with  her  husband  to  Jamaica,  had  thrown  them  on  the 
tender  mercies  of  Miss  Clementina,  their  mother  having 
died  when  they  were  all  little,  and  their  father  having 
been  shot  out  at  the  Cape  some  few  years   afterwards. 

"  If  we  can  find  anything  to  give  us  a  little  fun  in  Toa- 
dyshire, t  ant  mieux!"  said  Randolph;  and  when  we  got 
well  acquainted  they  did  give  us  a  good  deal  of  fun. 
Miss  Clementina  used  to  look  very  black— black  as  night 
— black  as  her  pet  Tom — whenever  Gordon  or  I  were 
shown  into  her  drawing-room.  "  It  is  my  opinion,"  she 
averred  to  Mrs.  Tomtit,  "  that  they  are  two  of  the  wox-st 
men  in  England.  Colonel  Gordon  never  bore  a  good 
character,  and  he  has  the  most  impertinent  manner  of 
staring  at  Sunshine,  and  leaning  over  her  chair  and  talk- 
ing to  her  just  as  if  she  were  his  own  property,  like  that 


22  RANDOLPH   GORDON. 

nasty  chattering-  parrot  of  his.  And  as  for  Mr.  Lyle,  he 
is  no  better,  "with  his  flowers,  and  compliments,  and 
trumpery  to  Pearl.  [However,  if  girls  will  cheapen  them- 
selves to  men,_  we  can  hardly  blame  men  for  taking 
advantage  "ofitj  (i  kept  gentlemen  in  then*  proper  places, 
but  the  young  women  of  the  present  day  know  nothing 
of  that  self-respect  which  compels  the  respect  of  the 
opposite  sex."i  And  Miss  Clementina  shut  the  steel  clasp 
of  her  district  bag  with  a  resentful  snap,  perhaps  at  the 
recollection  that  she  had  made  the  opposite  sex  a  trifle 
too  respectful— so  much  so,  that  they  had  never  proffered 
anything  at  ah  warmer.  Randolph  and  I  were  no 
favorites  with  Miss  Clementina:  she  required  for  her 
beau-ideal  some  such  spotless  collet-monte  individual  as 
the  virtuous  tanners  and  pure-minded  coal  merchants  of 
the  present  day  novels,  who  can  never  drink  anything 
stronger  than  milk-and-water,  and  who  are  as  hideously 
unattractive  as  they  are  impossibly  virtuous.  Ran- 
dolph's life  and  mine  were  calculated  to  alarm  her  more 
than  seance  a  nervous  lady.  We  smoked,  we  talked 
slang,  we  read  French  novels,  we  flirted  with  every 
woman  who  came  near  us  worth  the  attention.  We  were 
over  thirty,  but  we  hadn't  taken  any  "mission,"  nor 
headed  any  "  philanthropical  movement;"  in  fact,  there 
was  no  end  to  our  sins.  We  were  her  antipodes  and 
pet  betes  noires  after  her  nieces,  and  Miss  Clementina 
looked  black  at  us  accordingly.  "  The  Audley  girls " 
became  the  idols,  the  stars,  the  queens  of  our  corps. 
Sunshine,  the  eldest,  with  her  riant  smile,  her  radiant 
eyes,  and  her  gay  spirits,  her  moquant  laugh,  more  fasci- 
nating than  strictly  pretty;  Pearl,  dark,  stately,  beautiful 
as  you  could  wish  a  woman,  but  a  little  severe,  with  that 
pure  Grecian  profile  of  hers;  Rosebud,  a  lovely  pink  and 
white,  lazy,  lovable  little  thing,  just  seventeen — they  all 


RANDOLPH  GORDON.  23 

had  their  separate  troops  of  worshippers;  and  when  Ran- 
dolph  was  playing  pool  in  the  Boshcunibury  Subscription 
11:  urns,  or  lunching  at  the  pretty  pastry-cook's  over  the 
way,  he  would  laugh  till  he  cried  when  the  Audley  pony 
trap  stood  at  a  shop  door,  to  see  the  frantic  haste  with 
which  little  Fitzpop  would  dash  down  a  neighboring 
Street  in  that  brilliant  uniform,  in  which  popular  report 
had  it  that  he  slept;  and  young  Simmons  dash  open  the 
door  of  his  governor's  bank,  where  he  was  cruelly  im- 
mured till  the  tower  clock  struck  four;  and  Lacquers  fly 
into  the  same  shop  for  something  for  his  sister,  for  whom 
he  was  never  known  to  purchase  presents  at  any  subse- 
quent or  previous  period  of  his  life;  and  Doddington  flee 
from  Stubbley's  the  tobacconist's,  as  if  he  wouldn't  be 
seen  talking  to  Fanny  Stubbley  for  a  million,  leaving  his 
Manillas  on  the  counter,  and  poor  Fanny  inconsolable 
behind  it;  and  all  the  others  in  view  gather  and  cluster 
and  hover  round  that  little  Shetland  trap  till  the  small 
quadrupeds  were  quite  hidden  in  the  moving  sea  of  pep- 
per-and-salt coats  and  green  cock-tails  swaying  round 
them.  Randolph  laughed;  but  he  would  as  often  as  not 
lose  his  three  lives  in  double  quick  time,  or  leave  his  lob- 
ster salad  half  finished,  and  lounge  up  the  street  with  his 
glass  in  his  eye,  as  if  he,  too,  had  come  there  from  acci- 
dent, till  he  came  to  the  Shetlands,  where  he  would  stand, 
leaning  against  the  dash-board,  and  talking  witty  non- 
sense with  Miss  Sunshine,  their  conductress,  while  Fitz- 
pop,  and  Simmons,  and  Lacquers,  and  Dodd,  and  all  the 
rest  of  them,  fell  back  respectfully,  but  swore  with  very 
s.nail  re/erence  at  their  Captain  in  their  own  minds,  or  I 
am  much  mistaken  in  the  nature  of  man  in  general,  and 
our  corps  in  particular. 

"  You  seem  to  like  that  girl's  devilry,"  said  I  to  him 
one  day,  when  Randolph  and  I  rode  to  an  archery  fete, 


24  EANDOLPH   GOEDON. 

where  those  trois  soeurs,  separately  voted  by  their  sepa- 
rate worshippers  the  "most  charming  things  in  the 
county,"  were  expected  to  be  in  due  Toxopholite  glory. 

Randolph  stroked  his  moustaches,  and  smiled  the  same 
sort  of  smile  with  which  a  man  regards  a  stag  with  nine 
points,  or  thirty-six  brace  in  a  morning,  or  any  other 
pleasant  game. 

"Yes,  I  like  her  devilry,  as  you  term  it;  it's  very  inno- 
cuous mischief,  and  has  a  sweet  temper  to  soften  it. 
She  can  do  a  thousand  mechancetes  I'd  defy  another  girl 
to  attempt;  yet  she's  a  thorough -bred  lady  through  it  all. 
Yes,  I  like  Sunshine;  it's  such  fun  to  hear  her  talk.  And 
you  seem  to  like  that  dark-eyed  sister  of  hers — eh,  old 
boy  ?  Well,  she's  a  very  handsome  girl,  I  grant  you,  but 
she's  too  stately  for  me;  besides,  I  don't  care  for  your 
brunes;  tall  women  haven't,  generally,  much  fun  in  them." 

"Pearl's  plenty  of  fun  in  her,  I  assure  you,"  said  I; 
"  only  it's  her  hobby — at  eighteen ! — to  talk  of  woman's 
rights,  and  woman's  intellect,  and  such-like  themes  of 
dignity  and  grandiloquence." 

"  Ah !"  laughed  Randolph,  "  '  Pearl's  Martineau's  bris- 
tles,' as  Sunshine  calls  them.  I  bet  you,  if  it  came  to 
the  trial,  that  my  little  devil,  as  you  politely  term  her, 
with  all  her  satire  and  her  quick  wits,  would  be  easier  to 
coax,  and  gentler  to  judge  one,  than  your  Pearl,  though 
seemingly  she's  milder  and  quieter.  If  ever  any  of  our 
naughty  stories  come  to  light,  Lyle,  and  those  young 
ladies  are  on  the  jury,  you'll  see  we  shall  get  most  mercy 
from  the  one  whose  tongue  seems  the  keenest,  as  it  is,  I 
grant  you,  the  sharpest." 

"  I  bet  you  five  pounds  Pearl  would  be  merciful  to  my 
peccadiUoes !" 

"I  bet  you  five  pounds  she  wouldn't  be  so  kind  to 
yours,  as  her  sister  would  be  to  mine." 


RANDOLPH  GORDON.  25 

"Done!" 

"  Done  !  There  they  are,  both  of  them.  I  must  go 
and  teaze  her  a  little,  it  is  such  fun  to  see  her  when  her 
blood's  up." 

With  which  Gordon  made  his  way  to  Sunshine,  who 
shot  utterly  wide  of  the  target  in  her  hurry  to  turn  and 
talk  to  him,  and  I  made  mine  to  her  sister,  who  stood 
leaning  on  her  bow,  looking  like  a  young  Polycrita,  or 
Queen  Carcus,  in  her  plus  beaux  jours. 

"  So  you  are  going  to  have  a  silver  bugle  given  you, 
Colonel  Gordon?"  said  Sunshine,  welcoming  her  ally 
and  friend. 

"Yes;  and  you  won't  present  it;  it  is  very  cruel  of  you." 

"Not  I!"  laughed  Sunshine,  with  a  toss  of  her  head. 
"  I  leave  it  for  Aunt  Clementina.  I  am  no  patroness  of 
gentlemen  who  boast  of  having  learnt  in  a  year  what  a 
drill  sergeant  teaches  Hodge  or  Ambrose  in  a  quarter; 
and  rush  with  such  a  true  amateur  ardor  to  their  En- 
fields  that  the  dog  killed,  and  the  windows  smashed, 
and  the  old  ladies  frightened  into  apoplexy,  must  dis- 
tract the  magistrates  and  swell  the  bills  of  mortality  most 
fearfully.  Pray  do  you  pay  for  all  the  damages  done  by 
your  corps?  because,  if  you  do,  Mr.  Fitzpop  shot  my 
King  Charles  one  day  in  his  martial  ardor,  and  I  shall 
come  upon  you  for  another." 

"You  shall  have  the  best  dog  in  England  if  I  can  find 
him.  But  you  should  have  made  a  sacrifice  and  given 
us  the  bugle,  as  I  made  a  sacrifice  and  took  command  of 
the  corps.  After  the  Coldstreams  these  gentlemen  in 
Melton  seem  painfully  slow,  and  the  way  in  which  they 
rush  about  in  cross  belts  and  shakos,  haversack  and  uni- 
form, is  most  curious.  The  idea  of  showing  in  harness 
whenever  one  can  get  out  of  it !  But  amateurs  always 
yuerdo.     So  does  England  when  she  takes  a  fit  of  enthu- 


26  KANDOLPH   GORDON. 

siasm.     It  doesn't  sit  well  on  her  ;  she's  a  calm,  strong 
nation,  who  can  make  her  voice  heard  in  Europe  without 
any  boasting,  and  is  grandest  when  she  is  quietest,  like 
her  own  lion  couchant.     But  now  and  then  she  goes  mad 
about  some  hobby — once  or  twice  in  a  century — and  then 
she  dins  it  into  everybody's  ears  till  they  are  so  heartily 
sick  of  it  that  it  looks  ludicrous,  however  good  it  may  be 
in  the  main  ;  the  kitten's  freaks  sit  very  clumsily  on  the 
old  lion.     Vivacity,  vehemence,  red-hot  elan  and  adven- 
ture are  French  characteristics,  but,  when  England  imi- 
tates them,  she  is  sure  to  make  a  blunder  ;  it  isn't  her 
style,  and  her  hobbies  perish  in  the  vehement  hug  she 
gives  them.     Men  certainly  can't  do  better  than  learn  the 
use  of  their  rifle,  and  however  hypothetical  invasion  may 
be,  it  is  no  use  locking  the  door  after  the  horse  is  stolen  ; 
but  we  can't  do  it  quietly.     "VVe  must  go  and  rave  about 
it,  and  brag  of  it,  and  call  all  Europe  to  look  at  it,  till, 
bothering  them  to  admire  the  glory  of  our  pro  tempo  sun, 
we  force  the  spots  on  it  on  their  notice.     Why  the  deuce 
civilians  can't  practise  at  butts  without  people's  comparing 
them  to  a  regular  army  with  whom  they  can't  possibly  form 
any  parallel  yet,  at  the  least,  and  believing  in  some  speech- 
es from  soldiers,  who,  as  the  Athenaeum  lately  said,  '  invite 
a  cheer  by  lavishing  praises  which  pass  with  an  unmilita- 
ry  people,    does  puzzle  me,  I  confess.     But  we  are  a  sin- 
gular nation,  you  know  ;  we  scribbled  nothing  but  peace- 
at-any-price  poems  in  '51,  and  in  'GO  we  think  of  nothing 
but  cartridges  and  percussion-caps,  ties  and  butts,  wars, 
and  rumors  of  wars.     Look !  your  sister  has  hit  the  cen- 
tre.    She  has  hit  something  else,  or  I  am  mistaken  :  I 
never  saw  Lyle  so  devoue." 

"  Who  is  that  very  pretty  woman  who  is  now  taking 
aim  ?"  asked  Sunshine. 


RANDOLPH   GORDON.  27 

Randolph  looked,  and  swore  a  little  mentally,  for  causes 
best  known  to  himself. 
^"That?     Mrs.  Rocksilver." 

"  You  look  rather  irritated  at  her  presence,"  laughed 
Sunshine.     "  Do  you  know  her  ?" 

"Oh,  yes;  slightly." 

"  And  who  is  she  ?     A  name  tells  me  nothing." 

"  Unless  it  is  as  expressive  as  Sunshine,"  said  Ran- 
dolph. "Well,  she  is — Mrs.  Rocksilver.  She  married 
poor  Rock  when  he  was  only  twenty-three,  and  has  flirted, 
a  outrance,  ever  since.  Of  course,  before  a  week  of  the 
honeymoon  was  out,  they  were  bored  to  death.  I  never 
heard  of  anybody  yet  who  wasn't.  Any  two  human  love- 
birds, caged  up  together,  will  fret  their  very  feathers  off 
in  ennui,  and  hate  each  other  like  fighting-cocks,  before 
a  month  is  out." 

"  If  they  do,"  said  Sunshine,  with  that  rapid  anger 
which  it  was  Gordon's  inhuman  delight  to  arouse,  "  you 
may  depend  on  it  that  it  is  because  the  softness  of  the 
love-bird  has  only  been  put  on  for  some  purpose  of  con- 
venience, and  that  the  hate  of  the  game-cock  has  always 
been  au  fond." 

"  Oh  no,"  answered  Randolph,  "that  doesn't  follow; 
a  man  may  worship  a  woman,  but  if  he  isn't  desillusione 
in  a  month,  she  must  be  of  something  more  than  mortal 
mould " 

"Yet  he  will  swear  to  pass  a  lifetime  with  her!"  inter- 
rupted Sunshine,  too  indignant  to  let  him  finish.  "  Good 
Heavens !  if  two  people  are  to  be  weary  of  one  another  in  a 
month,  how  dare  they  undertake  to  spend  a  whole  exist- 
ence together  ?  No  wonder  marriages  are  unhappy  if  such 
is  their  creed.  How  will  they  smooth  each  other's  trials, 
bear  with  each  other's  faults,  learn  to  feel  for  each  other's 
errors,  if  they  love  no  better  than  that  ?     And  if  poverty 


28  RANDOLPH   GORDON. 

overtake  them,  and  they  are  thrown  on  their  own  society 
for  resources,  what  affection  will  they  have  to  solace  each 
other  and  support  their  ruin  ?" 

"  Affection !  you  don't  look  for  that  in  the  world,  do 
you?"  laughed  Randolph,  true  to  his  laudable  intention 
to  teaze  her.  "  "We  don't  form  love  unions  now-a-days  ; 
we  only  make  '  good  matches.' " 

"  No  ;  and  that  is  why  Sir  Cresswell's  is  fuller  than  it 
can  hold,"  said  Sunshine,  with  dire  contempt  for  his  pro- 
saic views.  "  What  people  term  '  good  matches '  too 
often  bring  bad  fruit.  From  a  wife  who  accepts  him  for 
position,  what  man  can  expect  fidelity?" 

"Most  visionary  of  sunbeams,  no  man  expects  it !"  said 
Randolph,  caressing  his  moustaches  to  hide  a  smile  of 
more  gratification  than  he  cared  his  companion  to  see  ; 
"  and  he  has  no  right,  for  women  will  never  give  it.  If  ever 
I  marry,  three  days  will  be  the  limit  of  my  constancy, 
and  I  doubt  if  I  shan't  be  tired  of  my  wife  before  that. 
Three  days  alone  with  one  woman  is  an  ordeal  to  try 
the  devotion  of  any  man  !" 

"  Then,  Heaven  grant  that  no  man  with  views  like 
yours  may  ever  marry  a  woman  that  loves  him,  or  he  will 
break  her  heart." 

"  Hearts  don't  break.  I  don't  know  whether  they  used 
to  be  Sevres,  to  make  the  poet's  expression  correct,  but 
they're  all  stone-china  now,  and  won't  even  crack,  I  as- 
sure you  ;  but  you  dwell  in  the  clouds — sunbeams  always 
do — so  that  the  earth,  when  it  is  just  warm  enough  for 
its  sensible  inhabitants,  strikes  them  as  most  chillily 
cold." 

"  Especially,"  said  the  young  lady,  half  laughingly,  half 
petulantly,  "  When  they  fall  upon  hard  iron  icicles  like 
you,  that  are  so  incrusted  with  society's  hoar-frost  that 
nothing'  will  dissolve  them." 


RANDOLPH    GOEDON.  29 

"Except  Sunshine,"  said  Randolph,  with  a  smile,  and  a 
glance  from  his  beautiful  velvet  eyes,  as  ladies  called  them, 
astonishingly  warm  for  an  icicle  !  He  an  icicle  !  By  Jove, 
Miss  Sunshine  should  have  had  a  glimpse  into  his  past ! 

"  You  here,  Randolph  ?  Why,  you  wrote  me  word  last 
time  you  were  going  yachting  to  the  Levant.  It  is  won- 
derful to  see  you  in  your  own  country.  Are  you  thinking 
that  il  faut  vous  ranger  at  last  ?" 

Randolph  swore  again  under  his  moustaches,  and 
glanced  impatiently  at  Sunshine.  He  lifted  his  hat  to 
Mrs.  Rocksilver,  and  took  her  proffered  Jouvins  as  she 
floated  up  to  him — a  pretty,  affected,  bold-eyed,  dashing- 
looking  woman,  of  eight-and-twenty  or  thirty. 

"  I  thought  you  said  you  only  knew  her  slightly  ?"  said 
Sunshine,  with  a  lift  of  her  contemptuous  pencilled  eye- 
brows, as  Mrs.  Rocksilver  passed  on  with  old  Lord  Saltire, 
at  whose  house  she  was  staying,  giving  Gordon  a  very 
familiar  nod,  smile  and  au  revoir. 

"  Did  I  ?     Well,  what  of  that  ?" 

"  Why,  that  your  slight  acquaintances  seem  very  inti- 
mate ones.  You  write  to  her,  and  she  calls  you  Ran- 
dolph," said  Miss  Sunshine,  quickly,  who,  having  had 
his  exclusive  attention  for  the  last  two  months,  could 
have  slain  any  other  human  being  who  got  a  word  from 
him. 

"  Oh !  that's  nothing.  In  some  sets  one  soon  becomes 
familiar,  and  one  has  to  write  to  lots  of  people  one  doesn't 
care  a  button  about.  Her  mail-phaeton  horses  were  not 
broken  well  enough  for  her  to  drive,  and  I  offered  to 
break  them  for  her,  and  had  to  write  about  them.  Won't 
you  come  and  have  an  ice?  We  can't  talk  pleasantly 
with  all  these  people  about  us." 

Tete-a-tete  over  glace  a  la  vanille,  he  did  talk,  very 
pleasantly,   too  ;   but  Sunshine   was   disquieted,    like   a 


30  RANDOLPH   GORDON. 

brood  of  partridges  at  sight  of  a  pointer's  nose  among 
the  turnips.  She  would  have  liked  to  call  him  Randolph 
herself,  and  allow  nobody  to  do  so  besides.  That  story 
of  the  phaeton  horses  didn't  quite  satisfy  her,  and  she 
hated  Mrs.  Rocksilver  instantly  and  vehemently,  being  a 
young  lady  of  very  hot  and  rapid  impulses,  accustomed 
to  treasure  Randolph's  notes  of  acceptation  of  the 
Audley  Court  invitation  as  if  they  had  been  deeds  of  gift 
to  all  the  money  in  Barclay's. 


PAUT  THE  SECOND. 

m. 


HOW   A   SILVER    BUGLE    SOUNDED    DIFFERENT     NOTES,    AND    RAN- 
DOLPH   LOST   A   PONY-RACE. 

Miss  Clementina,  the  richest  woman  in  Toadyshire, 
had  bought  in  common  with  other  feminine  county  mag- 
nates, a  silver  bugle  for  her  beloved  "British  Legions;" 
it  being  the  custom  now-a-days  to  reward  those  defend- 
ers of  their  nation  who  pop  away  at  butts  with  a  portion 
of  Potosi  ore,  as  righteous  godmothers  give  young  Chris- 
tians a  drinking-mug  on  the  occasion  of  their  being  en- 
tered into  the  kingdom  of  Heaven,  and  zealous  congre- 
gations present  pious  pastors  with  costly  soup-tureens  to 
hold  their  mock-turtle,  as  a  reward  for  the  elaborate 
periods  with  which  he  has  taught  them  to  turn  away 
their  eyes  from  beholding  vanity,  and  to  reject  all  the 
pomps  and  vanities  of  this  wicked  world,  giving  all  their 
goods  unto  the  poor.  If  Miss  Clementina  had  been  poor, 
the  whole  of  East  Toadyshire  would  have  shouted  with 
laughter  at  the  idea  of  a  middle-aged  lady  filling  so  prom- 


RANDOLPH  GORDON.  31 

inent  a  place,  to  the  exclusion  of  all  the  pretty  women 
with  which  the  county  was  glutted  ;  but  Miss  Clemen- 
tina being  Miss  Audley,  of  Audley  Court,  paying  the 
heaviest  income-tax  in  the  shire,  all  the  volunteers  were 
bound  to  be  excessively  flattered  by  the  condescension, 
and  everybody  thought  her  the  most  proper  person  that 
could  possibly  have  been  selected,  except  certain  of  the 
disaffected  amongst  us,  who  swore  at  the  old  lady's  office 
tomfoolery,  as  we  politely  termed  it,  in  not  delegating  the 
office  to  one  of  her  charming  nieces. 

"  Confound  it !"  said  Randolph,  savagely  ;  "  what  folly 
it  all  is !  And  here  am  I,  who  hate  humbug  worse  than 
any  man  going,  forced  to  take  a  share  in  it.  It  is  enough 
to  make  one  sick  only  to  think  of  all  the  bosh  that  old 
lady  will  talk  about  her  '  noble  defenders,'  and  7  shall 
have  to  listen  to  it  all,  and — reply  to  it !"  With  which, 
Sunshine's  quondam  Guardsman  struck  a  fusee  wratk- 
fully,  and  lamented,  with  extreme  pathos,  his  own  weak- 
ness and  amiability  in  consenting  to  accept  the  honor 
of  commanding  the  East  Goosestep.  The  East  Goose- 
step,  however,  notwithstanding  his  and  his  ally  Sun- 
shine's scorn,  considered  themselves  more  killing  than 
those  very  dazzling  gentlemen  the  St.  Georges  or  the 
Six  Footers,  and  quite  able,  by  the  mere  sight  of  their 
serried  ranks,  to  carry  terror  into  the  bosoms  of  every 
French,  Austrian,  and  Russian  soldier  in  Europe,  if  Eu- 
rope could  but  have  looked  on  when  we  marched  up  the 
wide  elm  avenues  of  Audley  Court,  where  the  inspection 
by  Lord  Saltire,  the  Lord-Lieutenant  and  Custos  Rotulo- 
rum  of  the  county,  and  the  presentation  of  the  silver 
bugle  were  to  take  place.  How  glorious  we  were ! 
though  little  Fitzpop  did  fall  flat  on  his  face,  owing  to 
the  extreme  torture  of  some*  very  new  boots  he  had 
donned  for  the  occasion,  and  Mr.  Turbot,  the  town-clerk, 


32  EAKDOLPH   GOBDON. 

did  puff  and  blow  under  the  burden  of  bis  epicure's  tons 
of  adipose  tissue,  and  the  anguish  of  that  horrible  belt, 
which  would  never  come  to  without  the  united  strength 
of  his  wife  and  his  footman  at  either  end;  and  young 
Simmons  did  get  out  of  step  in  a  manner  calculated  to 
drive  himself  and  everybody  distracted,  and  try  to  get 
right  with  such  frantic  efforts  that  he  made  himself  black 
in  the  face,  and  had  to  partake  of  brandy  from  some  hu- 
mane pocket-pistol, — barring  these  and  other  small  det- 
rimental accidents,  we  were  very  grand,  very  grand  in- 
deed— at  least  we  thought  ourselves  so,  and  that  is  the 
primary  thing  after  all;  if  a  woman  thinks  herself  the 
belle  of  a  ball-room,  it  will  be  very  difficult  to  persuade 
her  that  others  don't  consider  her  so  too.  Most  of  the 
spectators,  however,  concurred  in  our  self-adoration;  for 
we  were  their  pet  hobby,  and  love  made  them  blind  to 
all  faults  in  us  or  our  manoeuvres. 

"How  splendid  they  look!"  said  Pearl,  gazing  upon 
us  like  a  young  Semiramis  on  her  battalions,  as  we  passed 
her  at  double-quick.  "  Don't  they  walk  as  if  they  said 
'  We  are  gentlemen,  not  common  soldiers  ?'  " 

"  Well,  dear,  as  the  individuals  at  the  present  moment 
closest  to  my  eyes  are  that  diminutive  shoemaker  of 
Snobbleton  who  sent  home  my  kid  boots  this  morning, 
and  Mr.  Turbot,  who  has  about  as  unmihtary  an  aspect 
as  an  alderman  after  a  corporation  dinner,  I  can't  see  the 
force  of  your  remark  as  much  as  I  could  wish,"  returned 
mechante  Sunshine,  "  and  a  '  common  soldier '  is  no  in- 
glorious appellative.  /  haven't  forgotten  the  Crimea, 
though  everybody  else  has." 

I  don't  suppose  she  had,  with  Randolph  there  in  front 
of  her,  with  his  C.  B.  cordon  and  his  medals  on  that 
grizzled  Melton  that  had  replaced  his  Coldstream  scarlet ! 

We   went  through  position,   and  battalion,  and  skir- 


RANDOLPH   GORDON.  33 

mishing;  we  performed  manual  and  platoon  exercise;  we 
formed  into  line,  and  we  formed  into  square;  we  fired  in 
file,  and  we  fired  in  volleys;  and  we  marched  in  open 
column  and  in  quarter  distance  column;  and  we  did 
everything  contained  in  those  volunteer  manuals,  which 
have  been  to  us  of  late  what  her  breviary  is  to  a  good 
Catholic;  and,  what  with  the  clash  of  the  ramrods,  and 
the  tramp  of  the  marching,  and  the  smell  of  the  powder, 
and  the  sight  of  the  cartridge-strewn  turf,  all  Toadyshire 
was  stricken  with  the  deepest  admiration  of  us,  and  per- 
fectly persuaded  that  neither  Cesar's  legions,  nor  Attila's 
hordes,  nor  Scipio's  conquerors,  were  ever  fit  to  hold  a 
candle  to  us,  which  flattering  sentiment  our  Lord-Lieu- 
tenant conveyed  to  us  in  a  speech  sweet  as  milk-punch 
and  fragrant  as  attar  of  roses,  calculated  to  fill  us  with 
the  most  delicious  self-adoration,  and  to  secure  our  votes 
to  a  man  for  his  son  in  the  coming  county  election. 

Lord  Saltire  having  concluded  with  much  applause, 
as  reporters  say,  Miss  Clementina  advanced,  stately,  sol- 
emn, severe,  as  Miss  Clementina  ever  was,  amidst  as 
much  cheering  as  Three  per  Cents,  ever  obtained  for  a 
lady,  and  made  us,  I  think  I  may  say,  one  of  the  most 
sublime  perorations  that  ever  issued  from  female  lips 
since  the  Virgin  Queen  harangued  the  troops  at  Tilbury 
Fort.  Hersillia,  Hortensia,  Aldrude,  Bertinora,  Isabel 
of  Arundel,  Marthar  Glar,  all  their  eloquence  was  noth- 
ing to  it,  and  I  grieve  that,  instead  of  being  handed 
down  to  posterity,  Miss  Clementina's  oration  will  only 
live  to  line  portmanteaus  and  butter-tubs,  in  company 
with  the  Toadyshire  Post  and  the  Boshcumbury  Herald. 
She  called  us  "the  saviours  of  England;"  she  spoke  of 
the  homes  and  hearths  we  were  banded  together  to  pro- 
tect; she  enlarged  on  the  defenceless  sex,  for  whose 
safety  we  were  armed.     Altogether  she  was  so  touching 


34  RANDOLPH   GORDON. 

that  all  Toadyshire  was  strung  up  to  the  most  rapturous 
pitch  of  enthusiasm,  and  many  ladies  present  were  moved 
even  to  tears.  Mrs.  Turbot  wept  plenteously  at  the 
thought  of  that  dear  twelve-stone  lord  of  hers  going  out 
to  stick  invaders,  dinnerless  and  grogless;  Fitzpop's 
mother  nearly  went  into  hysterics  at  the  vision  of  her 
dear  boy,  with  gory  wounds,  defending  that  "  hearth  " 
where  it  was  her  delight  to  behold  him  every  evening 
warming  his  slippers  and  going  into  muffins;  and  even 
flinty-hearted  Sunshine  was  fain  to  hide  her  face  in  her 
cambric  handkerchief,  and  give  one  little  sob,  but  I 
am  half  afraid  it  was  of  a  cachinnatory  character, 
for,  catching  Randolph's  ear,  it  sent  him  straight  into 
agonies  of  suppressed  laughter,  which  his  pet  ruse  of 
stroking  his  moustaches  could  not  hide  so  entirely  but 
Miss  Clementina  saw  it,  paused  one  second,  continued 
with  extra  solemnity,  and  presented  him  his  silver  bugle, 
with  a  mental  vow  that  the  captain  of  the  East  Goose- 
step  Rifles  should  never  blacken  the  doors  of  Audley 
Court  again,  by  her  invitation  at  least.  That  smile  was 
never  forgiven  him;  it  was  blacker  in  Miss  Clemen- 
tina's eyes  than  the  blackest  of  Randolph's  sins — which 
were  d'une  latitude  enorme ! 

I  question  if  Knowsley,  lavish  as  it  was,  was  better  in 
its  way  than  the  Audley  Court  luncheon  with  which  Miss 
Clementina  regaled  her  beloved  British  Legions  to  a 
man — I  ought  to  say  to  a  boy,  for  our  smallest  bugler, 
aged  ten,  eat  as  much  as  a  parish  overseer  would  con- 
sider maintenance  for  six  whole  families  for  a  month,  in 
the  tent  prepared  for  their  regalement — while  we,  the 
officers  of  the  gallant  Goosestep,  walked  into  Strasbourg 
pates  and  Moet's  best  in  the  great  old  hall  of  Audley 
Court,  where  Miss  Clementina,  boiling  with  rage  at  Ran- 
dolph's unpardonable   sin,  which   was  not  assuaged  by 


KANDOLTH   GORDON.  35 

the  three  times  three  we  gave  her,  presided  with  solemn 
majesty,  with  Lord  Saltire  on  her  right,  aud  my  governor 
on  her  left — Pallas  herKelf  was  never  more  imposing.  I 
had  Pearl  all  to  myself,  a  proximity,  I  believe,  I  man- 
aged to  make  as  agreeable  to  the  young  lady  as  it  was  to 
me;  and  Randolph  was  so  devoue  to  Sunshine,  that  Mrs. 
Rocksilver's  handsome  eyes  scintillated  with  annoyance 
as  she  sat  opposite  to  him,  and  gave  him  now  and  then  a 
peculiar  smile,  which  made  him  restless,  and  think  to 
himself  what  a  confounded  fool  he  had  been  the  previous 
season  when  the  Rocksilver  box,  boudoir,  and  barouche 
had  seen  more  of  him  than  was  wise,  and  a  certain  Buhl 
writing-case  in  the  Rocksilver  Davenport  had  been  the 
receptacle  for  notes  signed  Randolph  Gordon,  which 
would  have  been  much  better  left  unwritten,  especially 
now  that  a  pair  of  softer  eyes  had  chased  the  Rocksilver's 
sparkling  black  ones  out  of  his  mind. 

"  Do  you  like  her  ?"  asked  Sunshine,  noticing  an  anx- 
ious glance  which  Randolph  gave  across  the  table. 

"  Her — whom  ?"  asked  he,  the  quick  and  exceedingly 
unwelcome  question  upsetting  that  sang  froid  which  Ran- 
dolph was  accustomed  to  boast  a  man  going  into  a  fit  of 
apoplexy  at  his  side,  intelligence  that  the  house  was  on 
fire,  the  receipt  of  a  challenge,  an  order  for  active  ser- 
vice, and  a  summons  for  breach,  all  at  the  same  moment, 
would  be  powerless  to  disturb. 

"  Your  friend  Mrs.  Rocksilver,"  said  Sunshine,  with 
that  impatience  with  which  a  woman  always  speaks  of  a 
rival,  real  or  imaginary. 

"  Like  her  ?  Oh  no !  She  can  be  very  agreeable,  but 
she  is  a  frivolous,  heartless  woman  of  the  world — nothing 
in  her — nothing  that  I  should  admire  now,  at  the  least," 
said  Randolph,  with  an  assurance  by  his  eyes  that  Sun- 
shine had  spoilt  him  for  every  other  breathing  woman. 


30  RANDOLPH   GORDON. 

"  Merci,  mon  ami."  Tbe  whisper  was  very  low,  but 
both  Randolph  and  his  new  favorite  heard  it,  and  there 
was  a  smile  soft  and  amused,  it  is  true,  which  said  to  him 
as  plainly  as  smiles  can  speak,  "  I  will  pay  you  for  that, 
monsieur!"  on  the  Rocksilver's  handsome  passe  face. 

"Hark!  your  aunt  is  off  upon  spiritualism,"  began 
Randolph,  a  propos  de  bottes,  to  draw  Sunshine's  atten- 
tion from  the  very  malin  glance  of  the  Rocksilver's  beau- 
tifully tinted  eyes.  "  What  a  dear  woman  it  is  to  take 
up  fashionable  follies,  and  I'm  always  tilting  up  against 
them.  This  very  morning  you  made  me  laugh  in  the 
most  mal-a-propos  and  ill-bred  manner  in  the  very  midst 
of  her  most  pathetic  peroration !  She's  a  firm,  believer 
in  Mr.  Howitt  and  Mr.  Home,  isn't  she  ?  I  was  looking 
at  Mackay's  Popular  Delusions  the  other  day,  and 
thought  we  could  scarcely  laugh  much  longer,  with  any 
show  of  justice  at  the  least,  at  the  witch  Mamia,  the 
mesmerism  furore,  or  the  philosopher's  stone,  now  that 
people  of  education,  intelligence,  and  accredited  position 
can  be  found  who  will  lend  their  drawing-rooms  and 
give  their  credence  to  the  legerdemain  and  vulgarities  of 
clever  charlatanism.  The  generation  of  a  century  hence 
will  certainly  be  puzzled  whether  to  vote  us  wilful  fools 
or  helpless  idiots.  It  seems  very  curious  to  me  that 
(with  the  power  these  mediums  claim  to  possess  of  con- 
stant contact  and  intimate  liaison  with  the  spirit  world, 
who  in  their  turn  know  everything  that  has  taken  and 
will  take  place  in  the  world  they  have  quitted),  instead 
of  going  about  in  such  very  infra  dig.  style,  earning  their 
few  guineas  a  night  at  a  seance,  they  don't  make  their 
fortunes  by  some  noteworthy  prophecy  that  would  do 
some  credit  to  their  powers  of  vaticination  :  tell  us  tbe 
fate  of  Gaeta  or  Venice,  or  what  the  state  of  the  funds 
w  11  be  a  week  beforehand,  or  how  long  Louis  Napoleon 


RANDOLPH   GOEDON.  37 

will  keep  as  his  motto  'L'empire  c'est  la  paix,'  or  some- 
thing worth  hearing.  Ah !  there  is  Miss  Audley  rising. 
Shall  I  ever  mate  my  peace  with  her,  I  wonder  ?" 

Sunshine  didn't  answer  him  with  her  usual  readiness 
and  zest.  She  was  pondering  over  Mrs.  Rocksilver,  a 
problem  she  could  not  solve  to  her  liking;  and  she  was 
probably  wishing  with  all  her  heart  that  she  had  a  me- 
dium for  her  friend,  who  would  tell  her  the  meaning  of 
the  sort  of  by-play  that  went  on  between  the  Captain- 
commandant  of  the  Toadyshire  Rifles  and  Lord  Saltire's 
dashing  and  dangerous  guest. 

"  So  you  are  entete  with  one  of  the  Audley  girls,  I 
hear,  Randolph,"  said  that  lady,  with  a  laugh  and  a  sneer, 
as,  after  the  luncheon  was  over,  we  broke  into  groups  to 
go  and  see  the  shooting-match  for  a  beautifully-mounted 
rifle  and  a  silver  cup  Lord  Saltire  and  my  governor  had 
offered  for  the  best  shot  in  Toadyshire.  "  Yeu  were  not 
made  for  a  marrying  man,  mon  cher;  the  Benedict  rule 
won't  suit  you,  though  you  are  thirty-four.  I  doubt  if 
you  ever  keep  the  same  thought  through  twelve  hours. 
Miss  Audley  is  very  charming,  sans  doute,  still  I  have  half 
a  mind  to  do  a  good  deed  and  save  you  from  your  doom." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?"  said  Randolph,  with  a  careless- 
ness that  did  him  infinite  credit  as  an  actor. 

"N'importe!"  laughed  Mrs.  Rocksilver,  gaily,  with  a 
glitter  in  her  eyes.  "  I  was  only  thinking  of  some  letters 
I  have,  which  might  postpone  your  sacrifice  ;  but  if  sac- 
rifice is  to  your  taste,  I  don't  see  why  I  should  interfere 
to  rescue  you  from  it." 

Randolph  stroked  his  moustaches  with  an  impatient 
frown  on  his  brow. 

"You  can  exhibit  your  correspondence  where  you 
please,  of  course  ;  but  whether  it  will  be  more  to  your 
credit  than  mine " 


38  RANDOLPH   GOEDON. 

"Fear  makes  you  discourteous,  mon  ami,"  cried  Mrs 
Rocksilver,  with  another  light,  pleasant  laugh,  her  sweei. 
temper  in  no  wise  disturbed.  "  Don't  be  afraid,  you  are 
not  such  a  great  prize  that  I  shall  dispute  you.  Ah  !  Ma- 
jor Thornton,  how  do  you  do?  I  have  not  seen  you  be- 
fore. Are  you  come  to  have  a  shot  for  Lord  Saltire's 
rifle  ?" 

Whether  she  had  any  particular  design  to  make  Ran- 
dolph fail  to  win  the  prize  or  not,  I  can't  say,  but  her  words 
and  her  smiles  rankled  sufficiently  in  his  mind  to  make 
him  so  careless  of  his  laurels  as  the  shot  of  Toady  shire,  that 
he  who  could  hit  anything — a  willow  wand  at  three  hun- 
dred yards,  if  he  had  liked — when  he  and  I  were  tied  for 
the  first  prize,  scoring  fifteen  points  each,  missed,  and  let 
me  make  a  centre  without  dispute. 

"  Why  don't  you  win  it  ?  You  can,"  said  Sunshine, 
impatiently,  as  he  rejoined  her.  "  Aunt  Clementina  looks 
so  pleased,  and  so  does  that  Mrs.  Rocksilver." 

When  one  lady  applies  the  pronoun  that  to  another,  it 
invariably  means  a  great  amount  of  dislike,  jealousy,  and 
general  contemptuous  irritation.  "  That  Julia  Vernon  !" 
say  your  sisters  of  that  girl  without  tin,  whom  you  like 
and  they  dread,  wishing  to  hook  you  for  their  rich  friend, 
Miss  Fitzingots.  "That  Miss  Flirtington!"  says  your 
wife,  of  your  pretty  cousin,  whom  you  ventured  to  take 
to  the  Crystal  Palace  one  day. 

"'That  Mrs.  Rocksilver!'  she  is  jealous  already," 
thought  Randolph,  skilled  in  all  feminine  weaknesses,  as 
he  asked  her  very  tenderly,  "  Do  you  wish  me  to  win  ?" 

"  Of  course  I  do,"  said  Sunshine  more  impatiently  still. 
"You  were  meant  to  do  something  better  than  fire  a' 
electric  targets  for  silver  cups,  but  since  you  are  doing  it, 
do  well  in  it.  No  man  should  ever  do  less  than  his  best ; 
if  every  one  remembered  that  we  should  have  greater 


RANDOLPH  GORDON.  39 

men  than  we  have;  patriots  would  not  sink  into  place- 
men, eloquence  into  clap-trap,  genius  into  money-fetching 
trash.  Why  the  first  myrtle-wreaths  are  the  brightest, 
is  because  a  man  puts  out  all  his  strength  when  he  enters 
the  arena,  and  thinks  any  blows  will  suffice  to  keep  the 
belt  when  he  has  once  been  declared  champion.  Go  and 
win  ;  never  let  these  civilians  say  they  beat  a  man  who 
fought  on  the  Sand-Bag  battery." 

Eandolph  smiled  ;  he  liked  his  "  little  devil "  best  in 
her  hot,  impatient,  contemptuous  anger.  He  whispered 
something  that  nobody  heard  but  Sunshine,  and  took  care 
to  carry  off  the  governor's  cup  with  eighteen  points  at 
a  distance  of  five  hundred  yards,  throwing  to  despair 
every  one  of  our  corps,  who,  from  fat  old  Turbot  to  little 
sprat  of  a  Fitzpop,  had  each  seen  in  their  several  imagi- 
nations that  portion  of  Hunt  and  Roskell's  plate  stand- 
ing on  their  sideboards  to  be  handed  down  to  admiring 
generations  in  memoriam  of  the  gallant  Toadyshire  Rifles, 
and  was  rewarded  for  his  exertions  with  so  radiant  a 
smile  from  his  Sunshine,  that  he  wondered — as  a  man 
always  does  wonder  when  he  changes  his  loves — what 
beauty  he  could  possibly  ever  have  seen  in  the  bold,  rov- 
ing, tinted  eyes  of  Augusta  Rocksilver,  as  they  had 
flashed  on  him  in  the  grand  tier,  the  Ring,  and  artis- 
tically darkened  and  very  embellishing  boudoir  in  Curzon 
Street,  the  season  before,  when  that  lady  had  marked  him 
out  as  the  most  agreeable  man  about  town,  from  the  day 
she  first  saw  him  driving  his  tilbury  by  the  Serpentine. 

"What's  the  matter  with  you,  Randolph?"  said  I, 
when  we  were  waiting  for  Lacquers  and  some  others  of 
the  county  men  to  go  and  play  loo  at  the  Angel,  in 
Boshcumbury,  where  we  had  dined  after  the  Audley  Court 
affair. 

"Matter  with    me?    Nothing   particular.     But  devil 


40  RANDOLPH   GORDON. 

take  her !    What  did  she  come  here  for  ?"  said  Randolph, 
with  an  angry  stab  at  his  cigar,  that  wouldn't  burn. 

"Who  are  you  anathematising?" 

"  Who  ?  Augusta — Mrs.  Rocksilver,  of  course.  I  was 
a  fool  last  season,  you  know,  Cosmo.  I  thought  her  a 
very  handsome  woman — and  so  she  is — but  I  told  her  so 
a  good  deal  too  much,  and  I  was  idiot  enough  to  give  her 
my  picture,  and  write  to  her,  and  do  all  sorts  of  compro- 
mising things  that  are  always  in  black  and  white  against 
one,  as  if  I'd  been  four-and-twenty  instead  of  four-and- 
thirty ;  and  now  here  she  turns  up  in  Toadyshire  just 
when " 

"  You're  making  the  same  love  to  another  woman.  Very 
inconvenient,  I  admit." 

"Not  the  same  love,  thank  you!  The  liking  for  the 
one  is  very  different  to  the  liking  for  the  other,"  muttered 
Randolph,  with  his  weed  between  his  teeth.  "  I  never 
liked  the  woman — there's  nothing  in  her  to  like — she's  all 
artificial  ;  but  she  was  deucedly  handsome,  and  I  made 
love  to  her.  Tant  pis!  And  now  she'll  go  showing 
those  letters  and  things  to  Sunshine.  I'm  certain  she 
will ;  confound  it !" 

With  which  colloquy  to  himself,  not  to  me,  Randolph 
flung  his  refractory  Cuba  into  the  grate,  as  if  it  had  been 
that  luckless  Rocksilver  notecase  which  contained  those 
dangerous  letters  with  which  his  last  love  held  him  in 
check  with  his  new  one. 

"  And  can't  you  trust  to  her  forgiveness  ?" 

He  smiled.  "  Well,  perhaps.  She's  very  plucky  ;  but 
your  most  plucky  are  often  the  gentlest  to  coax,  and  wo- 
men always  like  a  dash  of  the  mauvais  sujet,  even 
when  it  militates  against  themselves  ;  they  prefer  a 
man's  mind  to  be  a  sealed  envelope,  about  which  there  is 
a  little  mystery  and  a  good  deal  of  pride  in  getting  it  to 


RANDOLPH   GORDON.  41 

unclose,  to  a  blotless  breviary  that  lies  open  before  them  ; 
a  Rousseau's  Confessions  that  they  mustn't  look  into,  to 
an  open  letter  that  those  who  run  may  read.  How  handy 
it  would  be  if  one  could  score  out  some  of  the  days  of 
one's  life.  If  a  man  would  set  up  in  business  to  sell 
Lethe  like  porter  by  the  pot,  he'd  very  soon  make  his 
fortune — wouldn't  he  ?  However,  if  one  does  foolish 
things,  I  suppose  one  must  expect  to  pay  for  them — eh  ? 
There  come  the  men."  And  Randolph  took  up  a  fresh 
cigar,  and  struck  a  fusee,  humming  to  himself  Beran- 
ger's — 

"  Fi  des  coquettes  manierees ! 
Fi  des  bi'gueules  de  grand  ton  1" 

appropriating  the  refrain,  I  presume,  to  his  quondam 
admiration  and  present  detestation,  Augusta  Rocksilver, 
nee  Fixatrice  ;  while  I  congratulated  myself  that  the 
Rocksilvers  of  my  past  were  not  on  the  scene,  but 
thought,  if  ever  they  did  turn  up,  that  I  should  soon  per- 
suade Pearl,  with  her  languid  eyes,  and  her  calmness,  and 
her  very  deep,  though,  perhaps  not  very  demonstrative, 
attachment  to  me,  of  which  I  had  made  myself  sure  that 
day  under  the  tete-a-tete  favoring  orange-trees  of  the 
Audley  Court  conservatories,  to  listen  to  reason  and  for- 
give me  ;  while  with  that  vivacious,  satirical,  and  very 
vehement  Sunshine,  I  doubted  if  Randolph  would  not 
find  it  up-hill  work  to  obtain  his  absolution  if  ever  he 
asked  her  for  it. 

Our  butt  is  about  a  mile  out  of  Boshcumbury,  the 
practising  ground  rejoicing  in  the  non-military  appella- 
tive of  the  Sheep  Fields,  from  the  fact  that,  when  Bosh- 
cumbury possessed  an  abbey,  of  which  the  ruins  rejoice 
the  souls  of  the  archaeologists  to  this  day,  the  old  monks 
pastured  their  flocks,  where  now,  as  Randolph  remarks, 


42  RANDOLPH   GORDON. 

we  are  teaching  our  lambs  to  be  lions,  or,  at  least,  our 
asses  to  don  a  leonine  skin  and  semblance,  and,  like  Bot- 
tom, "  roar  that  it  will  do  any  man's  heart  good  to  hear, 
and  fright  the  ladies  till  they  shriek."  The  butt  is  a  mile 
out  of  the  town  :  and  a  sorry  mile  that  is  to  all  our 
corps  when  the  practising  days  are  wet  ones,  and  their 
cock-tails  are  bedraggled,  their  Melton  soaked  through, 
and  water  dripping  off  every  point  of  their  beloved  har- 
ness. Such  a  day  was  it  after  the  Audley  Court  inspec- 
tion :  and  if  Randolph  had  given  us  the  option  of  defer- 
ring the  drill,  I  venture  to  say,  martial  though  we  were, 
we  shouldn't  have  scorned  the  permission  as  pluckily  as 
the  Guards  did  the  other  day,  when  they  were  up  to  their 
knees  in  water  at  Aldershot.  But  he  offered  no  such 
thing — that  winter  before  Sebastopol  had  made  him  hor- 
ribly contemptuous  of  all  effeminacies,  and  cruelly  imper- 
vious to  all  babies'  winnings,"  as  he  brutally  termed  our 
most  severe  but  mildly-silent  sufferings.  "We  went 
through  the  drill  that  pouring  summer  evening.  Pool 
Turbot,  who  had  got  out  of  a  comfortable  after-dinner 
doze,  snatched  the  handkerchief  from  his  brow  that  kept 
the  flies  away  while  he  slumbered,  gazed  wildly  at  the 
clock,  and  struggled  frantically  into  harness,  his  wife 
pulling  at  that  miserable  belt  till  the  poor  little  woman's 
face  was  scarlet,  and  the  good  town  clerk  decidedly  apo- 
plectic, in  his  haste  to  be  in  time.  It  was  a  picture  of  the 
most  touching  misery  to  see  that  bon  bourgeois,  who  had 
never  stirred  out  without  his  goloshes,  his  umbrella,  and 
his  waterproof,  dripping  like  a  Newfoundland  after  a  bath 
— himself  puffing,  blowing,  saturated — a  portrait  of  dis- 
tress to  touch  the  most  flinty  heart ;  and  many  an  oath 
did  he  swear  to  himself  for  having  exchanged  his  quill 
for  an  Enfield — the  shelter  of  his  snug  office  for  the 
windy  pampas  of  the  Sheep  Fields.     Bassompierre-Dela- 


RANDOLPH  GORDON.  43 

field,  the  pet  physician,  who  had  bought  a  rifle  and  a  ten 
pound  diploma  almost  en  meme  temps,  and  divided  the 
worship  of  the  fair  women  of  the  borough  with  the  pop- 
ular preacher  at  St.  Faithandgrace,  getting  the  more 
votes  of  the  two  because  he  was  still  unmarried,  thought 
wildly  of  bronchitis,  diphtheria  phthisis,  and  every 
pulmonary  evil  under  the  sun,  as  the  rain  ran  off  his  little 
shako  into  his  neck  in  countless  and  chilling  streamlets, 
and  wished  the  volunteer  movement  at  the  devil,  and  his 
own  fondly-cherished  person  safe  in  the  drawing-room  of 
one  of  his  lady  patients.  Horrible  as  the  bank  and  its 
imprisonment  had  once  seemed  to  poor  Simpson,  the  vis- 
ion of  that  hated  stool  and  desk  seemed  paradise,  for 
they  at  least  were  dry,  which  not  a  thread  of  that  beloved 
uniform  of  his  could  purport  to  be  this  dreary,  pouring, 
remorseless,  practising  day  ;  poor  little  Freddy  Audley, 
shivering  and  wretched  as  his  idolised  curls  hung  dank 
and  dripping,  shrank  under  the  great  plash  of  each  rain- 
drop as  if  it  were  the  thug  of  a  French  cannon  ball  ; 
even  Lacquers,  that  jolliest  of  men  (when  away  from  his 
wife,)  looked  as  blue  and  dull  as  if  he  were  having  one  of 
my  lady's  diurnal  lectures  ;  and  through  it  all  our  heart- 
less captain  kept  us  hard  at  it  as  if  it  were  a  sunshiny 
noon,  swore  to  himself  what  a  fool  a  soldier  was  to  have 
anything  to  do  with  a  set  of  civilians,  and  looked  as  cool 
and  unconcerned  with  the  water  dripping  off  his  long 
moustaches  as  if  he  were  an  otter,  or  a  boatman,  or  a 
seal,  or  a  bathing-woman,  or  any  other  amphibious  being 
to  whom  the  element  came  as  second  nature. 

"  Go  home  and  have  a  warm  bath,  Freddy,"  said  he, 
with  the  most  unfeeling  laugh  imaginable,  as  the  poor 
little  dripping  heir  of  Audley  Court  wrapped  the  plaid 
round  his  knees  as  he  started  his  dog-cart  off  from  the 
Angel  yard.     "Mind  you  have  some  white  wine  whey, 


44  RANDOLPH    GORDON. 

and  ask  Miss  Clementina  for  her  chanfferette  ;  and  a  few 
drops  of  nitre,  I've  heard,  are  the  very  best  thing  for 
catarrh  ;  but  your  aunt  will  see  to  all  that.  "What  a 
blessing  a  maiden  aunt  is  to  young  volunteers,  who'd  like 
to  play  at  soldiers  only  in  fine  weather !  I  wonder  what 
you'd  have  done,  my  boy,  if  you'd  been  with  us  the  night 
before  Alma  ?  Cambridge  himself  had  only  a  tilted  cart, 
and,  by  George !  how  it  poured  all  night  ;  splash,  splash, 
into  the  puddle  where  we  lay,  sans  cloaks,  sans  tents, 
sans  anything.  You'd  have  shone  there,  Freddy,  and 
Miss  Clementina's  whey  would  really  have  been  most  ac- 
ceptable, though  on  my  life,  I  don't  think  you'd  have  been 
ahve  to  drink  it,  since  you  suffer  so  frightfully  from  a 
little  rain." 

"A  little  rain!  Cats  and  dogs!  You're  as  bad  as 
Sunshine,"  murmured  Freddy,  between  a  growl  and  a 
lisp. 

The  last  name  silenced  Randolph,  or  at  least  sent  him 
into  a  reverie,  so  that  poor  Freddy  was  allowed  to  start 
his  mare  off  in  peace  from  further  assaults  ;  and  the  cap- 
tain of  the  East  Goosestep  threw  himself  across  his  grey, 
shook  his  bridle,  and  clattered  down  the  High  street,  the 
young  demoiselles  at  the  pastry  cook's  looking  longingly 
at  him  through  the  dripping  plate-glass  of  their  shrine, 
as  they  solaced  shoals  of  moist  volunteers  with  steaming 
mock  turtle  and  cherry  brandy,  or  piping  hot  oyster  pat- 
ties. Turbot  went  home  to  an  extra  tumbler  of  whiskey- 
and-water,  warm  slippers,  and  every  creature  comfort  that 
bis  little  wife  could  heap  upon  her  patriotic  and  self-sac- 
rificing lord.  Bassompierre-Delafield  changed  and  went 
to  dine  with  a  pet  patient,  who  had  his  favorite  entre- 
mets for  him,  and  who  listened  to  his  recital  of  the  hor- 
rors of  the  day  with  as  thrilling  an  admiration  as  Europe 
now  listens  to  the  sufferings  of  Poerio,  Arrivabene,  or 


RANDOLPH   GORDON.  45 

Teleki.  Young  Simmons  and  little  Fitzpop  turned  into 
the  Angel  to  warm  themselves  with  inulligatawney,  be- 
moaning bitterly  that  their  dear  jackets  were  so  utterly 
soaked  through,  that  they  should  be  obliged  to  go  in 
mufti  to  the  Fitzvalseurs'  carpet-dance.  Laccpaers  went 
home  to  a  stately  dinner  and  an  admirably  dressed  and 
coiftoe  Zantippe,  who  would  have  been  more  cheering  and 
refreshing  if  she  had  a  little  less  handsome  a  toilette  and 
a  little  more  pleasant  good  humor.  Freddy  drove  me  off 
with  him  to  Audley  Court,  where  he  had  asked  me  to 
dine,  I  gladly  accepting,  hours  with  Pearl  being  the  sum- 
mum  bonum  of  earthly  felicity  with  me  ;  and  Randolph 
galloped  on  his  own  way  back  to  Grassmere,  thinking  of 
the  Rocksilver,  of  Sunshine,  with  some  other  entangle- 
ments of  his  past  and  plans  for  his  future,  as  he  rode  his 
grey  at  a  pace  fit  for  Croxton  Park  or  the  Grand  Mili- 
tary. 

As  he  passed  along  by  the  side  of  that  small  stream 
dignified  in  Toadyshire  by  the  name  of  river,  which  bor- 
dered the  Audley  estate,  he  heard  the  ring  of  a  pony's 
hoofs,  and  a  merry  laugh  that  he  knew  well  enough. 

"Ah,  bonjour!     Will  you  ride  a  race  after  the  rain?" 

Quick  as  the  wind,  Sunshine  rode  past  him,  lifting  her 
gay,  bright  face  to  his,  all  the  brighter  for  gleaming  out 
of  the  dark  afternoon  mist. 

"  My  little  Arab  shall  beat  your  Grey  Darrell.  Fifty 
to  one  I  reach  the  milestone  first!" 

"Done!  For  the  best  Jouvins!"  laughed  Randolph, 
though  he  felt  a  much  greater  desire  to  snatch  her  up 
from  her  little  Arab,  and  carry  her  off  to  Grassmere,  as 
the  Gordons  of  old  had  summarily  wooed  and  won  the 
ladye  loves  whom  fate  and  foe  kept  from  them.  Away 
they  went,  and  the  little  half-bred  Arab  set  off  at  such  speed 
when  his  rider  struck  his  silky  black  flanks  with  her  rid- 


46  RANDOLPH  GORDON. 

ing-whip,  as  promised  to  beat  Randolph  by  a  length, 
though  he  was  counted  one  of  the  best  riders  that  had 
ever  graced  the  Queen's  or  cleared  bullfinches  with  the 
Pytchley  and  the  Tedworth.  Probably  he  did  not  try  to 
work  up  his  grey  to  do  her  best ;  probably,  he  preferred 
losing  the  Jouvins,  and  giving  her  the  pleasure  of  vic- 
tory ;  at  any  rate,  the  little  Arab  dashed  along  the  turfy 
road  at  a  pace  worthy  of  his  ancestry,  both  English  and 
Syrian,  that  would  really  have  drawn  him  down  admira- 
tion if  he  could  have  been  entered  for  the  Goodwood  or 
the  Ascot  Cup,  and  Sunshine  won  the  distance  by  a 
couple  of  yards,  clapping  her  gauntlets  with  joyous 
laughter. 

"  I  won !  I  won !  I  told  you  I  should !  Who  can 
defy  me  T 

The  bright  blue  eyes  lifted  to  him  chased  the  Rock- 
silver's  black  ones  straight  out  of  Randolph's  mind. 

"  Not  I,"  said  he  passionately,  as  he  reined  up  Grey 
Darrell  close  by  the  Arab's  side.  "  Sunshine,  some  peo- 
ple will  tell  you  that  my  love  is  no  great  prize,  but  such 
as  it  is  it  is  yours,  as  long  as  my  life  will  last,  stronger 
and  deeper  than  I  ever  felt  it  for  any  other  woman  before. 
Whatever  faults  I  may  have  had  to  others  I  will  have 
none  for  you,  for  God  knows  how  dear  you  are  to  me !" 

This  form  of  address  would  have  had  far  too  little 
Grandisonian  reverence  in  it  to  suit  Miss  Clementina, 
who  would  doubtless  have  expected  Randolph  to  kneel  on 
the  ground,  without  any  resj>ect  to  the  muddy  state  of 
the  roads,  and  tender  in  submissive  language  his  respect- 
ful homage  and  undying  devotion.  But  Sunshine  seemed 
to  be  very  well  satisfied  with  it  in  its  modern,  brief,  and 
unreverential  form.  As  Randolph  bent  down  from  his 
saddle,  and  his  moustache  touched  those  mischievous  lips 
which  spoke  such  cruel  satire  on  his  volunteer  rifle  corps, 


RANDOLPH   GORDON.  47 

Miss  Clementina,  on  the  other  side  of  the  river,  going  to 
visit  her  district,  after  the  rain,  with  a  gigantic  umbrella, 
goloshes  in  which  you  could  have  put  Sunshine's  whole 
body,  and  her  own  pet  page,  bearing  a  packet  of  stiff 
tracts,  looked  stricken  dumb  with  righteous  indignation, 
trembling  till  every  bone  in  the  umbrella  skin  rattled. 

"In  a  public  road!"  she  murmured,  almost  paralysed 
with  horror.  "  What  next  ?  How  utterly  lost  to  all  self 
respect,  to  all  maidenly  feeling,  to  all  proper  reserve  1 
He   shall  never  enter  my  house  again !" 

Past  them,  too,  in  the  usually  deserted  highway  rol)-=)d, 
just  at  the  juncture,  a  carriage  with  the  Saltire  arms  on 
the  panels  and  hammer-cloth,  and  Mrs.  Rocksilver 
looked  through  the  window  at  Grey  Darrell  and  the  little 
Arab,  and  set  her  fine  white  teeth  together. 

"  Faites  votre  jeu,  monsieur  ;  but  it  will  be  odd  if  you 
win!" 


PART  THE  THIRD. 
IV. 


HOW  RANDOLPH  AND  I  SINNED  AND  CONFESSED  IT,  AND  HOW 
WE  GOT  PARDON  AND  PENANCE. 

Market  Kottenborough,  twin  capital  of  Boshcumbu- 
ry,  sent  the  East  Goosestep  an  invitation  to  drill  with 
the  West  Toadyshire.  Their  strength  was  about  fifty; 
ours  amounted  to  eighty;  fifty  and  eighty  volunteers — 
one  hundred  and  thirty  in  all!  Was  not  that  a  force 
enough  to  sneer  at  any  imperial  whatsoever,  and  bestow 


48  RANDOLPH  GORDON. 

upon  the  county  blessed  with  such  a  phalanx  as  sweet  a 
sense  of  security  as  a  maiden  lady  experiences  when  she 
"bolts  the  door,"  before  retiring  to  rest,  with  a  miniature 
bar  of  iron  that  a  burglarious  file  would  cut  through  in  a 
second?  Market  Rottenborough  was  to  give  us  an  ova- 
tion. "We  were  to  drill  at  Bottlesmere,  a  village  two 
miles  off,  where  Sir  Cheque  Ingotts,  the  banker  of  Rot- 
tenborough, had  bought  a  seat,  and  set  up  as  a  country 
gentleman.  "We  were  to  dine  in  the  town-hall,  and  the 
Toadyshire  Railway  Company  had  offered  to  take  us  in 
second-class  carriages  for  third-class  fare  to  show  their 
sense  of  our  patriotism — a  munificence  which  Randolph 
did  not  feel  as  he  ought  to  have  done,  but,  on  the  con- 
rary,  gave  a  most  ungrateful  sneer  to  it. 

Market  Rottenborough  went  quite  as  mad  about  us  as 
ever  the  Yankees  about  the  Prince  of  Wales.  They 
dressed  up  the  town  with  evergreens  and  flowers,  they 
nad  out  the  election  flags,  which  hung  together  in  unity 
for  the  first  time  since  their  manufacture,  and  tbe  charity 
school  banners,  whose  inscriptions  were  not  particularly 
appropriate,  as  they  incidcated  giving  the  other  cheek  if 
one  was  buffeted,  and  similar  injunctions  of  an  anti-gun- 
powder character,  and  the  shops  were  shut,  and  the  bells 
fired,  and  the  old  militia  band  performed  that  familial 
fantasia  peculiar  to  itself,  with  the  bugle  at  a  gallop,  the 
clarionet  at  a  trot,  and  the  fife  at  a  slow  march,  till  we 
could  not  possibly  have  been  more  fetes  if  we  had  taken 
Paris,  invested  Petersburg,  or  stormed  Pekin. 

As  we  marched  under  the  triumphal  arch  into  the 
park,  and  wheeled  into  line  to  give  the  general  salute,  we 
saw  Miss  Clementina  with  Sunshine,  Pearl,  and  Rosebud. 
The  lady  of  Audley  Court  made  her  eyes  into  stone,  and 
gave  Randolph  a  glance  as  fixed  and  chilling  as  that  of 
the  Medusa,  as  she  bestowed  on  him  her  shortest  and 


RANDOLPH   GORDON.  49 

stiffest  bow.  We  had  no  time  for  a  tete-a-tete,  for,  after 
■we  had  been  reviewed  and  complimented,  we  had  to 
march  back  to  Rottenborough,  and  go  through  the  horri- 
ble ordeal  of  a  public  dinner,  where  Randolph  and  I,  be- 
ing not  gifted  with  patience,  and  having  visions  of  Sun- 
shine and  Pearl  at  a  ball,  whither  we  were  going  at 
Bottlesmere  as  soon  as  we  were  released,  chafed  un- 
speakably during  the  laudatory  orations  which  passed 
between  the  Rottenboroughites  and  Boshcumburyonians. 

Randolph  and  I  were  profoundly  thankful  when  we 
could  shake  ourselves  free  of  it,  and  go  off  to  the  ball  at 
Sir  Cheque's  where  Miss  Clementina  had  immolated  her- 
self to  impose  some  check  by  her  presence  on  her  nieces, 
and  who  looked  black  as  thunder  as  Randolph,  recklessly 
regardless  of  the  Rockshver,  took  possession  of  Sunshine 
in  a  cool,  right-of-way  manner,  authorised,  of  course,  by 
her  improper  conduct  under  the  elms  the  day  before. 
The  independent  conduct  of  her  nieces  irritated  Miss 
Clementina.  Rosebud  alone  was  acting  properly,  and 
seriously,  encouraging  the  Hon.  Augustus  Priedieu,  third 
son  of  Lord  Saltire;  but  Pearl,  whom  she  had  always 
considered  the  only  manageable  one  of  the  three,  cut  her 
to  the  heart,  in  engaging  herself  to  such  a  mauvais  sujet 
as  Cosmo  Lyle;  and  Sunshine,  "  she  should  never  be  sur- 
prised at  anything  dreadful  that  happened  to  that  girl," 
she  assured  Mrs.  Tomtit,  as,  tired  of  chaperoning,  they 
sat  talking  over  the  parish,  the  county,  the  company 
and  her  nieces,  in  a  deserted  whist-room. 

"She  is  wild,  headstrong,  wayward;  and  this  hand- 
some reprobate,  Colonel  Gordon Hark !  who  is  that, 

talking  in  the  ante-chamber?"  said  Miss  Clementina, 
interrupting  herself. 

"Randolph,  do  you  remember  that  miniature  of  yours; 


3 


50  KANDOLPH   GOKDON. 

the  one  Mayall  took?"  said  somebody  invisible   in   the 
inner  apartment. 

"  Mine ! — a  miniature  ?  Really  I  have  bad  so  many 
taken,  that  I  can't  remember.  None  of  tbem  were  like 
me,"  said  a  man's  voice,  that  Miss  Clementina  knew  but 
too  well. 

"I  don't  agree  with  you,  mon  cher;  mine  is  an  admir- 
able likeness  of  you;  so  good  indeed,  that  I  think  Miss 
Audley  would  like  to  have  it,  if  you  really  are  engaged 
to  her.     You've  been  engaged  to  so  many,  it's  aknost  a 
cry  of  '  Wolf !'    I  will  send  it  her,  if  you  like  ?" 

There  was  a  suppressed  "  The  devil !"  and  a  more 
audible  "Thank  you;  I  don't  doubt  she  would  be  much 
obliged  to  you,  but  I  have  a  picture  by  me  I  have  al- 
ready promised  her." 

"  Vraiment !  which  old  love  did  it  belong  to  last, 
Randolph — Lady  Aurora,  or  Georgie,  or  Madame  de 
Tintiniac,  or  La  Roville,  or  whom  ?" 

"  To  none  of  them.  I  shall  not  insult  my  future  wife 
by  offering  her  others'  leavings." 

This  was  very  haughty  and  laconic:  it  was  answered 
by  another  laugh. 

"  Then  don't  offer  her  your  heart,  mon  ami !  How- 
ever, you  are  right,  Benedict,  to  play  propriety,  and  I 
have  no  wish  to  be  behind  you,  so  I  will  certainly 
send  Miss  Audley  that  miniature,  and  all  your  letters  too. 
Your  future  wife  is  the  most  proper  keeper  of  them; 
don't  you  think  so  ?" 

"For  Grod's  sake,  Augusta " 

"Augusta!  For  shame,  Colonel  Gordon,  you  insult 
your  'future  wife'  and — me  too." 

"Great  Heavens!  that  for  a  few  months  of  folly " 

began  her  interlocutor,  passionately.     Then  he  went  on, 
keeping  his  anger  down:  "You  can  do   as  you  please; 


RANDOLPH   GORDON.  51 

Miss  Audley  loves. me  too  well  to  revenge  anything  of 
my  past  upon  me.  The  only  result  of  your  sending  her 
my  letters  will  be  to  show  that  Mrs.  Rocksilver  cares 
enough  for  Randolph  Gordon  to  be  jealous  of  his  for- 
getting her  in  a  truer,  fonder,  stronger  love  for  another." 
Miss  Clementina  rose,  grasped  Mrs.  Tomtit's  arm,  and 
dragged  her  from  the  room;  then  she  looked  at  her  with 
a  face  pale  with  anger,  and  feelings  outraged,  till  every 
link  in  her  bracelets,  and  every  tip  of  her  marabouts, 
trembled  and  quivered,  while  her  voice  was  sepulchral 
enough  to  have  drawn  crowded  houses  to  Sadler's  Wells 
or  the  Grecian. 

"  I  am  always  lighting  on  something  horrible — and  to 
think  my  niece  might  have  married  that  wretch !  Oh, 
Annette!  can  we  ever  be  too  prudent  and  too  circum- 
sjject  with  his  dreadful  sex?" 

Miss  Clementina  quite  shook  with  her  awful  secret  as 
she  stepped  into  the  carriage.  She  shivered  as  her  dress 
touched  Randolph,  and  she  could  have  shrieked  when 
she  saw  him  hand  Sunshine  in,  and  saw  his  moustache 
touch  her  hair  and  cheek,  under  pretext  of  giving  her 
her  bouquet,  as  he  bade  her  good  night,  and  held  her 
hand  in  Ms. 

"Sunshine,  do  you  dream  of  ever  marrying  that  Colo- 
nel Gordon?"  asked  Miss  Clementina,  as  her  fat  bays 
puffed  along  the  dark  road,  in  a  tone  so  frightfully  fune- 
real that  Sunshine  started,  then  colored,  smiled,  and  inti- 
mated that  she  had  dreamt  of  it,  and  had.  moreover,  been 
recently  assured  that  her  dream  should  come  true. 
"  Then  never  think  of  such  a  thing  again;  it  would  be  the 
greatest  calamity  that  could  befal  you;  he  is  the  worst,  the 
vilest  of  his  sex !"  resumed  her  aunt,  with  such  solemn  and 
startling  emphasis,  that  Sunshine  dropped  her  fan  and 
her  bouquet  in  amazement.     To  slander  her  beau  ideal 


52  RANDOLPH   GORDON. 

thus,  she  thought  Miss  Clementina  must  be  fit  habitant 
or  Hanwell.  No  language  was  ever  heard  so  thrilling 
and  so  severe  as  that  in  which  Miss  Clementina  told  the 
story  of  that  fatal  conversation  overheard  between  Ran- 
dolph and  Mrs.  Eocksilver;  she  didn't  pause  till  a  violent 
jolt  in  a  rut  stopped  her  peroration,  and  compelled  her, 
weak  in  bronchia  though  strong  in  vehemence,  to  halt 
for  breath. 

"  You  won't  see  him  again,  will  you,  Sunshine  ?"  said 
Rosebud,  strong  in  the  devotion  and  spotlessness  of  the 
Hon.  and  Rev.  Augustus. 

"  After  such  an  insult,  you  will  call  up  all  your  pride 
to  punish  him  as  he  merits — the  same  love  he  gives  to 
you  offered  to  Mrs.  Rocksilver  ! — abominable !"  chimed 
in  Pearl,  that  devout  upholder  of  woman's  dignity. 
>  "  There  is  but  one  course  left  for  you,  and  that  is,  for 
me  to  write  and  end  all  communication  in  your  name," 
resumed  Miss  Clementina's  frigid  tones. 

Sunshine  was  very  pale.  To  have  her  fears  of  the 
Rocksilver  confirmed  was  not  welcome.  "  He  loves  me 
now,"  she  said,  hurriedly;  "it  is  nothing  whom  he  has 
liked  before." 

"  What !  you  call  such  an  outrage  '  nothing!'  "  shrieked 
Miss  Clementina — "You  think  it  'nothing'  for  another 
woman  to  have  his  picture  and  his  love-letters!"  cried 
Rosebud. 

Sunshine's  eyes  grew  dark;  she  spoke  bitterly  and 
passionately,  as  she  felt,  and  Miss  Clementina  gazed 
at  her  aghast.  She  collapsed  under  the  horrible  sug- 
gestion that  her  life  coidd,  under  any  provocation  what- 
soever, have  by  any  possibility  borne  any  comparison 
with  Randolph  Gordon's  !  She  regarded  Sunshine  with 
stern  despairing  pity,  reserving  her  grand  coup  for  the 
last. 


RANDOLPH   GORDON.  53 

"Very  well,  you  do  as  you  please,  of  course;  but  I  for- 
bid that  man  my  bouse  !" 

I  was  breakfasting  the  next  morning,  when  Randolph 
came  in  sans  ceremonie  and  threw  himself  down  on  a 
sofa. 

"  Cosmo,  I  want  you  to  do  something  for  me." 

"A  votre  service.     What  is  it?" 

"  Why,"  said  Randolph,  lashing  his  boots  impatiently, 
"  I  sent  a  groom  over  this  morning  to  Audley  Court  with 
a  letter  to  Miss  Clementina,  telling  her  I  loved  her  niece, 
and  wished  to  make  her  my  wife.  Nobody  else  in  the 
county  would  take  it  as  an  offence,  I  should  fancy — 
rather  au  contraire,  wouldn't  you  say?  I  must  confess, 
however,  there's  no  knowing  what  one  may  come  to  ? 
Well,  what  does  my  man  bring  me  back  in  return  but  a 
cold  and  frigid  little  document,  written  in  the  most  buck- 
ramish  hand,  expressing  her  conviction  that  Sunshine 
will  go  to  the  devil  her  own  way,  but  repudiating  the 
connexion,  and  forbidding  me  the  house.  Did  you  ever 
know  anything  more  cursedly  annoying?  Deuce  take 
the  women — all  but  one.     What  on  earth  shall  I  do  ?" 

"  Have  you  heard  from  Sunshine  ?" 

No.  I  promised  her  last  night  to  go  and  ride  out  with 
her  at  twelve,  but  I  can't  go  now.  I  won't  force  myself 
into  anybody's  house,  not  even  for  her  sake;  and  yet  not 
to  see  her!  Heaven  knows  what  lies  the  Rocksilver 
mayn't  have  told  her  about  me  and  those  confounded  let- 
ters of  mine  too.  Stay,  I'll  write  a  line  to  Sunshine,  and 
you'll  take  it  for  me.  Give  it  to  her  maid,  that  nice  little 
Frenchwoman,  you  know.     Will  you?" 

And  drawing  the  paper  and  inkstand  to  him,  he  dashed 
off  at  express  speed  his  one  hue,  alias  his  three  or  four 
sheets. 

"  Now  go  and  find  Marie,  there's  a  good  fellow,"  said 


54:  RANDOLPH   GORDON. 

he,  when  he  had  finished.     "  Gallop  all  the  way  there  if 
you've  any  pity  in  your  composition." 

With  which  he  fairly  pushed  me  out  of  my  own  room, 
and  sent  me  galloping  down  the  road  that  led  to  Audley 
Court,  and  I  thought  myself  in  wonderful  good  luck  when, 
as  I  rode  through  the  lodge  gates,  I  lighted  on  Marie, 
flirting  with  the  head  gardener. 

"  Non,  je  ne  prendrai  pas  lalettre,"  said  she  with  a  shake 
of  her  glossy-tressed  head.  "Madame  sa  tante  ne  le 
veut  pas." 

"Mais  Monsieur  le  Colonel  le  veut;  vous  ferez  tout 
pour  lui,  Marie,"  said  I,  thrusting  half  a  sovereign  into 
her  little  plump  fingers. 

"Ah!  le  Colonel !"  laughed  Marie;  "  mais  oui.  II  est 
bien  beau  ce  monsieur,  mais  il  est  bien  mechant  aussi,  je 
pense :  et — monsieur,  je  n'ose  pas !" 

"Si,  si,  Marie,  vous  le  donnerez  a  mademoiselle,  j'en 
suis  bien  sur;  vous  ferez  tout  pour  servir  a  l'amour,  n'est- 
ce  pas  ?"  said  I,  as  I  put  the  letter  in  her  hand,  and  re- 
inforced my  request  with  another  little  bit  of  gold,  and 
such  a  caress  as  soubrettes,  on  and  off  the  stage,  have 
expected  from  time  immemorial. 

"Fidonc!  monsieur!"  cried  Marie,  taking  the  letter 
with  a  laugh,  when — oh  horror  of  horrors  ! — in  a  garden- 
ing costume,  with  gauntlets  too  large  for  the  stoutest 
corporal  in  Randolph's  Coldstreams,  and  dress  looped 
up  to  show  most  strong-minded  balmorals,  a  broad  hat 
on  her  brow,  some  cuttings  in  her  hand,  and  on  her  face 
the  greatest  wrath  that  ever  mortal  lineaments  portrayed, 
that  evil  genius  of  East  Toadyshire — I  saw  Miss  Clem- 
entina ! 

How  I  repassed  those  lodge  gates  I  can't  tell  you.  I 
turned  my  mare's  head,  with  some  faint  hope  that  Miss 
Clementina  mightn't  recognise  me,  and  I  tore  back  along 


EANDOLPH   GORDON.  55 

the  road,  heaping  curses,  loud  and  deep,  on  Randolph's 
love,  which  ten  to  one  had  cost  me  mine. 

"Well,  did  Marie  take  my  letter?"  asked  Randolph, 
eagerly,  as  he  stood  sinoking  on  my  kearth-rug,  when  I 
reached  home,  after  riding  as  if  all  the  furies  had  been 
after  me. 

"Yes,"  said  I,  savagely;  "and  I  wish  you  had  been  at 
the  devil  before  you'd  given  it  me." 

"Bien  oblige !     What's  the  row  ?" 

I  told  him,  and  he  looked  deeply  sympathising  when  I 
had. 

When  Eandolph  and  I  had  done  luncheon,  a  groom 
from  Audley  Court  brought  two  notes.  Randolph  tore 
his  open;  I  held  mine,  touching  it  as  fearfully  as  if  it 
were  a  Brinvilliers's  poisoned  billet. 

"Well,  what  does  Miss  Pearl  say  to  you,  old  fellow?" 
asked  Randolph,  as  he  crushed  his  up  and  put  it  into  his 
breast-pocket,  looking  as  radiant  as  a  man  might  whose 
horse  had  won  "the  blue  riband  of  the  turf." 

"  Say?"  I  repeated  savagely,"  why,  that  after  what  her 
aunt  has  told  her  she  witnessed  this  morning,  everything 
must  be  at  an  end  between  us." 

"  The  devil  she  does !"  interrupted  Randolph.  "  She 
hain't  lived  with  Miss  Clementina  for  nothing,  then. 
Does  she  expect  to  find  a  man  like  Trollope's  impossible 
Arabin,  who  touches  a  woman's  lips  for  the  first  time, 
we  are  told  to  believe,  at  forty !  On  my  life,  Cosmo,  how 
grieved  I  am !" 

"She's  heard  some  garbled  tale  of  it,"  said  I,  hoping 
against  hope,  with  valor  worthy  a  volunteer.  "  I'll  see 
her  before  night;  I'll  make  her  hear  me  at  the  least. 
Women  often  say  more  than  they  mean.  Is  Sunshine 
kinder  to  you,  pray  ?" 

"  God  bless  her  little  heart,  yes  !"  said  Randolph,  em- 


56  RANDOLPH  GORDON. 

phatically.  "  I  told  you  my  'little  devil'  was  true  metal, 
Lyle." 

That  evening  Randolph  leaned  over  the  white  gate 
that  parted  one  of  the  paddocks  of  Audley  Court  from 
a  bridle-path,  talking  to  Sunshine,  confessing  his  sins, 
and  receiving  his  absolution. 

"You,  see,  my  pet,"  he  was  saying,  half  laughing,  after 
graver  converse,  "  we  men  are  very  often  like  that  luck- 
less bee  Mr.  Gosse  tells  us  of,  who,  catching  sight  of  a 
crascicornis,  mistook  it  for  a  flower,  and  darting  delight- 
edly on  to  its  tentacles,  was  hooked,  impaled,  and  swal- 
lowed. We  see  what  we  fancy  very  beautiful  flowers,  we 
fly  down  to  taste  the  honey  of  eye  love,  and  our  seem- 
ingly innocent  rose  thrusts  out  its  thorns,  and  impales 
us  there  long  after  it  has  ceased  to  have  any  fragrance 
for  us,  and  we  have  found  out  our  foolish  mistake.  Such 
was  my  love  for  Mrs.  Rocksilver,  and  others  like  her,  but 
it  was  not  love  of  which  you  need  be  jealous,  nor  love 
that  I  could  ever  feel  after  that  I  bear  for  you.  You  will 
not  visit  my  sins  upon  me,  Sunshine  ?" 

Sunshine,  that  keen  satirist,  whose  wicked  tongue  all 
his  corps  feared,  lifted  her  face  to  his  with  a  smile,  half 
mechancete,  half  of  tenderness,  a  little  bit  saddened  that 
he  should  have  loved  so  many  before  her,  but  wholly 
trustful  that  he  wTould  love  her  alone  in  the  future. 

"No;  you  told  me  yourself  that  two  days  would  be 
the  extent  of  your  fidelity  to  any  one,  still  I  am  not 
afraid  to  trust  you,  mediant  though  you  are." 

Randolph  bent  over  the  gate,  and  thanked  her  so  fer- 
vently, that  it  was  a  very  fortunate  thing  Miss  Clemen- 
tina was  then  pouring  her  woes  into  Mrs.  Tomtit's  ear 
before  dinner,  and  was  not  there  to  have  her  nerves 
startled  writh  a  third  severe  galvanic  shock.  At  that 
same  hour  I  was  vainly  entreating  Pearl  to  hear  reason, 


EANDOLPH    GORDON.  57 

which  that  young  lady  as  absolutely  declined  to  hear,  be- 
ing in  a  state  of  most  dignified  wrath,  and  that  frame  of 
mind  in  which  her  sex  talk  nineteen  to  the  dozen,  and 
give  Lynch  law  verdicts  with  the  greatest  ruthlessness 
and  severity.  I  had  managed  to  catch  her  walking  on 
the  terrace,  and  pleaded  my  cause  with  an  eloquence 
which  I  should  have  thought  calculated  to  touch  the 
most  flinty  heart.  But  Pearl  was  more  than  flint,  and 
wouldn't  even  listen  to  a  plea.  Disengaging  her  hand 
without  looking  at  me,  she  swept  off  into  the  house  like 
a  young  empress. 

In  the  high  road  Randolph  and  I  met.  He  was  riding, 
smoking,  with  a  most  contented  smile  on  his  lips. 

"  I  owe  you  a  fiver,"  said  I,  with  pardonable  bitterness, 
considering  that  it  was  through  being  his  postman  that 
I  had  lost  my  fiancee.  "You  were  right;  your  'little 
devil'  has  pardoned  all  your  past,  and  her  sister  won't 
forgive  me  a  bit  of  harmless  nonsense  in  a  friend's  cause. 
Like  a  fool,  helping  you  to  trap  your  sunbeam  I've  shut 
myself  out  of  Audley  Court,  and  every  ray  of  Pearl's 
favor;  and  how  the  deuce  I  shall  get  back  into  either  is 
far  more  than  I  can  guess  I" 


VI. 


HOW    SPIRITUALISTIC     AGENCY   WAS    BROUGHT   IN     FOR   MATERIAL 

PURPOSES. 

Sunshine  was  so  determined  to  have  her  own  way,  and 
so  very  satirical  upon  those  who  opposed  her,  that  peo- 
ple  were  speedily  tired  of  doing  so,  and  Randolph  got 
3* 


58  RANDOLPH   GOllDON. 

the  entree  of  Audley  Court  on  a  sort  of  suffrance  and 
condition  that  he  would  not  long  pollute  its  walls  with 
his  presence,  but  rid  it  both  of  himself  and  of  his  "  little 
devil."  Freddy,  who  had  his  own  way  in  everything, 
the  only  soul  on  earth  that  Miss  Clementina  worshipped 
and  listened  to,  gave  her  a  blowing  up  for  rejecting  his 
captain's  offer.  Sunshine  avowed  her  unswerving  loy- 
alty to  her  ame  damnee,  and  Miss  Clementina  had  to 
give  in,  for  the  very  first  time  in  her  maiden  existence ! 
She  permitted  Randolph  to  come  to  her  house,  but 
treated  him  with  frigid  hauteur,  which  was  intended  to 
show  him  she  had  not  forgiven  his  faux  pas.  Not  so  for- 
tunate was  I;  no  re-entry  could  I  make  into  Audley 
Court;  its  doors  were  fast  closed  against  me.  Ran- 
dolph's intervention,  Sunshine's  artillery,  Freddy's  me- 
diation, were  all  powerless  in  my  cause.  Pearl  was  in- 
flexible, and  Miss  Clementina  backed  her,  glorying  in  the 
fact  that  one,  at  least,  of  her  poor  brother's  children  had 
some  sense  of  womanly  dignity,  and  could  resent  an  in- 
sult and  revenge  men's  shameless  levity. 

Pearl  was  lost.  Nohow  could  I  regain  her;  not  even 
gain  her  ear  again;  and  bitterly  did  I  anathematise  that 
evil  day  when  I  had  been  mad  enough  to  play  the  part 
of  Randolph's  postman. 

The  doors  of  Audley  Court  were  closed  against  me, 
and  there  seemed  no  chance  of  my  ever  getting  inside 
them  again,  not  even  to  plead  for  mercy  with  my  cruel 
and  relentless  fiancee,  till  one  day,  after  drill,  little  Freddy 
came  to  me— the  good-natured  little  fop  was  heart  and 
soul  my  friend. 

"  Lyle,  I've  thought  of  something." 

"You  thought,  Freddy!  what  a  phenomenon!  Well, 
what  did  you  think  about  ?" 

"A  way  to  get  you  inside  the  Court,  to  have  a  good  lark, 


RANDOLPH   GORDON.  59 

and  to  bring  Miss  Pearl  to  reason,"  answered  Freddy. 
"  You  know  the  old  lady's  rampant  about  spirituabsm 
and  all  that  humbug;  she's  heard  of  the  seances  in  town, 
and  she's  crazy  to  have  one  of  the  mediums  down  here. 
She  got  me  to  write  to  one  of  'em,  to  know  their  terms. 
I  didrr't  post  the  letter — I  have  it  in  my  pocket  now — 
and  I  thought  if  you'd  take  the  rule  (you're  a  good  ven- 
triloquist and  a  capital  actor,  and  you  learnt  some  leger- 
demain of  Houdin)  we  would  soon  get  up  the  rest  of  the 
clap-trap,  and  you  might  say  something,  as  if  from  the 
spirits,  you  know,  that  might  bring  Pearl  to  reason,  eh  ? 
It  would  be  such  a  lark,  you  know.  Do;  we  won't  tell 
Gordon  or  Sunshine,  because,  though  they'd  do  anything 
in  the  world  to  help  you,  they'd  be  certain  to  laugh,  they 
couldn't  help  it.  We'll  only  tell  Marie.  Come  along, 
Lyle;  let's  talk  it  over.  You'll  never  see  Pearl  unless 
you  take  her  by  storm,  and  it  would  be  such  fun  to  do 
Aunt  Tina." 

Freddy's  suggestion,  seemingly  wild  and  visionary  at 
first  glance,  grew  more  practicable  on  consideration. 
After  a  good  deal  of  talking  over  and  reiterated  persua- 
sion from  him,  who  was  egotistically  eager  for  it,  as 
"such  a  lark,"  it  assumed  a  guise  of  possibility,  and  I 
consented  to  turn  medium. 

It  was  about  a  fortnight  after  I  had  lost  alike  my  fian- 
cee and  my  bet,  when  Miss  Clementina,  on  the  tiptoe  of 
expectation,  and  with  her  nerves  strung  to  the  highest 
pitch  of  reverential  excitement,  invited  her  beloved 
friend,  Mrs.  Tomtit,  to  be  present  at  a  seance.  Mrs. 
Tomtit,  on  the  strength  of  many  wonders  of  lively- 
minded  tables  and  gossiping  ghosts  that  had  been  re- 
vealed to  her  on  a  recent  visit  to  town,  was  a  firm  be- 
liever in  the  new  arch-humbug,  rejected  any  rational  ex- 
planation of  her  beloved  miracles   as  disgustedly  as   a 


60  RANDOLPH  GORDON. 

divine  would  of  his,  and  was,  therefore,  considered  eligi- 
ble by  Miss  Clementina  to  be  present  at  a  seance  for 
which  she  had  engaged  a  celebrated  London  medium, 
who,  like  all  other  mediums,  would  only  transact  his 
celestial  affairs  if  he  was  paid  for  it,  and  appeared  to 
carry  his  spirits  about  with  him,  as  the  showman  carries 
his  Punch  and  Judy,  beadle  and  devil,  in  a  box,  till  called 
for  and  paid  for  their  performances.  The  spirits  won't 
perform  for  nothing,  any  more  than  Punch  will  give  his 
"  Too  te  too  te  too-o-o-e !"  to  the  unremunerative  small 
boys  on  the  pave. 

I  dressed  myself  that  night  with  minute  care,  and,  I 
may  say,  that  no  more  venerable-looking  individual  than 
I  ever  turned  away  from  a  cheval-glass.  I  had  a  snowy 
beard,  I  had  spectacles  which  shaded  my  eyes  from  all 
inquisitive  gaze.  I  was  seventy  at  the  least;  a  most  re- 
spectable person  for  the  spirits  to  confide  in.  I  was  as 
thoroughly  disguised  as  if  detective  A  1  had  been  after 
me;  and  satisfied  myself  as  to  its  completeness  when, 
ringing  at  our  own  door,  and  asking  for  myself,  old  "Wa- 
ters replied,  without  an  idea  of  my  identity,  "  Mr.  Lyle 
is  not  at  home,  sir." 

Freddy  and  Marie  were  my  accomplices.  We  had 
selected  a  night  when  Randolph  and  Sunshine  were 
going  to  dine  with  a  cousin  of  his,  for  I  wouldn't  have 
had  their  keen  eyes  on  me  for  any  money.  Miss  Clem- 
entina was  disposed  to  be  more  amiable  to  a  medium 
than  to  any  other  thing  on  earth.  Everything  smiled 
propitious  as  I  entered,  and  Freddy,  meeting  me  in  the 
hall,  whispered,  "  All  right — coast's  clear — Marie's  ready, 
and  the  iron's  fixed  to  the  drawing-room  table — the  oval 
one,  remember." 

They  ushered  me  into  the  drawing-room;  there  Miss 
Clementina  sat  in  state,  the  most  imposing  j^erson  that 


RANDOLPH   GOIiDON.  61 

can  be  imagined,   calculated  to   inspire  with  solemnity 
and  respect  the  spirit  of  Tom  Wharton,  or  Mohun,  or 
the  "  roaring  boys  "  of  the  Restoration,  or  the  wildest 
scamp  going;  there  was  little  Mrs.  Tomtit,  tremendously 
excited,  a  little  bit  frightened,  and  ready  to  go  into  hys- 
terics at  any  moment ;  there,  too,  was  my  granite-hearted 
fiancee,  looking  so  handsome  as  she  leant  back  in  her 
chair,  that  I  was  on  the  point  of  forgetting  my  rule  and 
throwing  myself  at  her  daintily  chausses  feet  instanter; 
and  there  was  not  Randolph  and  Sunshine,  for  which  ab- 
senteeism I  thanked  Heaven  devoutly,  for  no  slight  or- 
deal was  it,  I  can  tell  you,  with  Miss  Clementina's  piti- 
less, and  Pearl's  haughty,  and  Rosebud's  laughing,  and 
the  little  Tomtit's  inquisitive  eyes  upon  me,  when  I  knew 
that  I  had  stolen  into  Audley  Court  in  borrowed  plumes, 
that  I  was  making  game  of  its  mistress,  and  that  one 
false  step  might  be  detection,  and  detection  more  irrevoc- 
able exile  than  before.     But  I  summoned  up  my  courage 
as  became  a  Goosestep  Volunteer,  and  opened  the  seance 
in  due  form.    I  was  solemn,  I  was  grandly  dignified,  I  was 
deeply  mysterious,  as  became  a  correspondent  with  an  un- 
seen world;  I  was  a  man  after  Miss  Clementina's  own 
heart;  I  believe  I  realised  that  Jack-o'-lantern  ideal  which 
she  had  been  ever  pursuing  and  never  caught.     I  was  cer- 
tainly more  imposing,  with  my  snowy  beard  and  my  six 
feet  of  height,  than  some  of  those  very  fat  and  not  re- 
markably   impressive    elderly    females,   who   sometimes 
summon  the  dear  departeds   from  the  darkness  of  the 
tomb  into  the   gas-lights  of  a  London  drawing-room. 

First  of  all  I  requested  to  have  the  room  darkened; 
spirits,  you  know,  don't  admire  light,  it  jars  on  their 
feelings,  or  exposes  the  ravages  of  time  too  much.  One 
candle  was  left  on  a  console  at  the  far  end  of  the  room, 
which  shed  such  a  dim   religious   light,  that,  like  very 


62  RANDOLPH   GORDON. 

many  religious  lights,  it  was  as  good  as  none  at  all.  ! 
heard  Mrs.  Tomtit  shudder.  "  Isn't  it  awful  ?"  whispered 
the  little  woman;  to  which  Miss  Clementina  returned  a 
short,  stern,  snappish  "Pshaw!"  under  which  Mrs. 
Tomtit  collapsed,  silenced  by  the  superior  energy  of  a 
mind  greater  than  her  own.  There  was  a  dull,  grey, 
mysterious  twilight,  that  made  everything  dark  look 
black  as  night,  and  everything  large,  gigantic:  a  twi- 
light of  itself,  quite  a  nightmare  to  any  nervous  suscepti- 
bilities, under  which  Rosebud  murmured,  "  How  horrid !" 
and  the  poor  little  Tomtit  shivered  till  the  bugles  of  her 
cap  and  the  links  of  her  bracelets  rang  a  little  chattering 
duet  of  terror,  which  so  incensed  Miss  Clementina  that  she 
asked  her  sharply  "  if  she  thought  the  spirits  would  bite 
her  ?"  which  was  a  lowering,  not  to  say  ridiculous,  view 
of  the  spirits'  pursuits,  quite  in  consonance  with  the 
nineteenth  century  view  of  them.  It  was  a  dim,  mysteri- 
ous twilight,  and  in  it — having  selected  Freddy  to  read 
off  the  alphabet — I  rapped  on  the  drawing-room  table, 
and  asked  the  rosewood  in  courteous  terms  if  the  spirits 
were  there — in  its  pillar  and  claw,  in  fact,  which  must 
be  a  very  inconvenient  domicile  for  some  of  them — for 
stout  old  Luther,  par  exemple — unless,  indeed,  the  Silent 
Land  have  shrunk  them  to  the  size  of  homunculi.  Then 
I  struck  the  floor  with  my  left  foot,  too  slightly  for  any- 
body to  see  it ;  and  my  boot  having  a  loose  brass  heel, 
which  clicked  easily,  did  the  spirits'  business  a  ravir,  and 
announced — through  my  taps  and  Freddy's  alphabet — 
that  their  excellencies  were  coming,  with  an  amiable 
celerity  they  didn't  always  display,  perhaps,  in  answer- 
ing their  duns'  calls,  or  their  wives'  appeals,  in  a  former 
state  of  existence;  and  at  which  supernatural  evidence 
Mrs.  Tomtit  gave  a  little  suppressed  scream,  and  Miss 
Clementina  was  too  much   imposed   to   correct  her.     I 


RANDOLPH  GORDON.  C3 

asked  the  spirits  if  they  had  any  objection  to  the  present 
company,  and  my  boot  gave  me  three  taps,  to  answer  me 
they  had  not,  which  was  a  great  relief  to  me,  as  spirits, 
you  know,  are  as  averse  to  showing  before  an  unbeliever 
as  a  clergyman  is  shy  of  opening  argument  with  a  clever 
secularist. 

"The  spirits  are  present  with  us,"  said  I,  in  the  most 
sepulchral  tones  to  which  I  could  force  my  voice. 

"Oh!  it's  dreadful,  Clementina?"  sobbed  Mrs.  Tomtit. 
"  I  can  see  them,  I  can  hear  them,  I  can  feel  them.  Oh ! 
take  me  away,  somebody!  I  can't  bear  it,  it's  so  awful!" 

"Be  silent,"  said  Miss  Clementina's  deepest  tones, 
sunk  to  an  awe-stricken  whisper;  "  I  can  realize  a  pres- 
ence not  of  earth,  but  it  is  ill  becoming  us  to  show  tim- 
orous dread  of  any  of  the  mysteries  of  life  and  death. 
Oh!  good  gracious!  what's  this?"  screamed  that  dig- 
nified lady,  with  a  shrill  scream  like  a  small  rocket, 
changing  from  solemnity  to  terror. 

"You  are  honored,  madam;  the  spirits  communicate 
personally  with  you,"  said  I,  in  a  reproving  tone,  as  I 
drew  back  into  my  pocket,  with  that  rapidity  I  had  paid 
Kobert-Houdin  many  a  guinea  to  learn,  a  pair  of  long- 
handled  pincers,  with  which  I  had  nipped  up  a  small 
portion  of  Miss  Clementina's  person. 

"How  mysterious!  how  awfully  mysterious!"  solilo- 
quised the  mistress  of  Audley  Court.  "What  singular 
means  they  take  of  testifying  their  presence.  My  arm  is 
painful  now;  it  is  really  awful!" 

"Awful — it  is  horrible!"  sobbed  the  little  vicaress. 
"Ah!  oh!  Clementina,  they  are  pinching  my  ankles!" 

"Silence!"  said  I.  "Do  you  not  recognize  the  pres- 
ence of  the  "Unreal  and  Impalpable?" 

"  Yes !"  said  Miss  Clementina,  Mrs.  Tomtit,  and  Rose- 
bud, in  awe-stricken  concert. 


64  RANDOLPH   GORDON. 

"Do  you  not  feel  their  cold  touch  upon  your  brow, 
their  ghostly  breath  upon  your  lips,  their  holy  phantoms 
riding  on  the  wings  of  night?" 

"  Yes  I"  they  all  sobbed  in  trio.  Their  voices  were 
hardly  to  be  heard,  their  nerves  were  strung  up  to  the 
highest  pitch.  They  felt,  saw,  heard  anything  and  every- 
thing that  could  be  suggested  to  their  heated  imagina- 
tions, and  their  fancy,  warmed  to  fusion,  would  have 
taken  any  nights  that  mine  had  proposed  to  them.  My 
miracles,  signs,  and  wonders,  like  many  others,  owed 
their  reality  solely  to  the  gullibility  of  my  believers.  I 
was  in  high  spirits;  I  was  succeeding  a  ravir;  every  one 
of  my  auditors  was  far  too  profoundly  impressed  with 
the  terrors  of  the  supernatural  to  have  any  material  rea- 
son left  with  which  to  penetrate  my  eleusinia  and  see 
through  my  disguise.  I  was  just  proceeding  a  step 
further  in  the  seance,  and  my  spectators,  with  quivering 
nerves,  clinging  together  in  vague  dread  of  palpable 
pinches  and  impalpable  spirits,  were  quite  ready  to  swal- 
low any  wonders  I  might  summon  from  the  nether 
world,  when  the  drawing-room  door  opened,  letting  in  a 
flood  of  outer  light  into  our  darkened  spiritual  temple, 
and  I  prayed  wildly  to  the  Auxerre  carpet  to  open  its 
velvet  bosom  and  drop  me  down  under  the  sheltering 
shade  of  one  of  its  bright-hued  bouquets,  when — there 
entered  Randolph  and  Sunshine. 

"We  are  come  back,  Aunt  Tina,"  laughed  Sunshine. 
"  The  poor  dear  horses  slipped  down  Catsmore  Hill,  and 
Sultan  hurt  his  knees  so  much  we  hadn't  the  heart  to 
take  him  on  a  whole  five  miles  of  heavy  roads;  the  rains 

have  made  it  so But  what  are  you  doing  here?     The 

lights  are  out,  and " 

"Hush!"  said  Miss  Clementina,  impressively;  "your 
interruption  is  most  untimely;  we  are  in  the  middle  of  a 


RANDOLPH   GORDON.  65 

seance.  This  gentleman — Mr.  Mtiffles — is  come  down 
from  London  at  my  solicitation.  You  will  oblige  mo  by 
withdrawing." 

"  Allow  me  to  stay,  Miss  Audley,"  said  that  confounded 
Randolph,  with  extreme  solicitude,  though  /  detected  the 
laughter  which  made  his  voice  shake,  though  he  tried  to 
control  it.  "  I  have  always  had  the  greatest  desire  to  be 
present  at  a  seance,  and  so,  I  know,  has  Sunshine.  We 
will  be  very  good — indeed  we  will." 

"I  have  no  objection,  of  course,  if  Mr.  Muffles  has 
none,"  said  Miss  Clementina,  stiffly,  turning  to  me. 

"  The  spirits  must  be  consulted,  madam,"  said  I,  wish- 
ing myself  along  with  the  spirits  under  the  table,  and 
cursing  Freddy  fiercely  for  his  tomfoolery  in  leading  me 
into  such  a  madman's  lark,  and  hoping  to  Heaven  Ran- 
dolph would  not  recognize  my  voice.  "  The  spirits 
answer  in  the  negative:  this  lady  and  gentleman  must 
not  be  present,  they  are  disturbing  influences,"  said  I, 
giving  my  taps,  and  spelling  oft'  my  alphabet  selon  les 
regies. 

"Your  spirits  are  not  over-courteous,  Mr.  Muffles," 
said  that  abominable  fellow,  looking  at  me  very  keenly — 
so  keenly  that  I  thought  if  he  did  not  see  through  spec- 
tacles, white  wig,  trickery,  and  all,  it  would  be  uncom- 
monly odd,  and  most  miraculously  propitious.  "It  looks 
rather  suspicious  in  them  to  be  so  careful  of  observation 
from  any  but  orthodox  believers;  they  should  embrace 
the  occasion  of  shaming  the  skeptical.  Try  them  again 
or  I  shall  think  they  have  some  private  pique  against 
me." 

And  he  looked  at  me  so  sharply,  putting  up  his  con- 
founded eye-glass,  that  I  saw  if  I  did  not  let  him  stay  he 
would  make  such  miserable  fun  of  the  whole  thing  as 
would  show  me  and  my  spirits  up  to  everybody.     I  could 


6G  RANDOLPH   GOEDON. 

see  lie  thought  I  was  an  impostor,  and  was  very  ready  to 
have  Lynch  law  upon  me,  and,  stuck  inextricably  be- 
tween the  horns  of  a  dilemma,  in  half-crazed  despair  I 
put  the  question  to  the  spirits,  and  rapped  out  an  un- 
willing permission. 

"  Since  you  are  permitted  to  stay,  Colonel  Gordon,  I 
must  request  you  not  to  interrupt  the  seance  with  unbe- 
coming levity,"  said  my  staunch  apostle,  Miss  Clemen- 
tina. 

Randolph  bowed,  sat  himself  down  by  Sunshine  on  a 
couch,  fixed  his  glass  in  his  eyes,  and  fastened  so  stern  a 
gaze  upon  me,  that  I  felt  my  false  heels,  my  pincers,  my 
spirits,  my  legerdemain,  my  ventriloquism,  were  all  being 
seen  through,  and  penetrated,  and  rent  into  smithereens, 
and  I  trembled,  shook,  and  shivered  as  no  volunteer 
should  ever  have  done,  considering  the  amount  of  brag 
we  make  of  what  our  Spartan  courage  would  be — if  it 
were  tried.  But  I  looked  at  Pearl  in  the  demi-lumiere. 
I  thought  of  the  old  proverb  of  faint  hearts.  I  remem- 
bered that  brass  may  win  where  truth  may  fail.  I  made 
a  dash  at  it,  and,  plunging  in  medias  res  up  to  my  ears 
in  spiritualistic  temerity,  told  them  the  spirits  would 
answer  a  question  put  by  any  or  each  of  them. 

"  A  daring  fellow,  that !  but  I  am  certain  he's  a  hum- 
bug. How  ever  people  in  this  wide-awake  century  can 
credit  this  tomfoolery,  is  the  deepest  problem  to  me," 
was  the  whisper  I  caught,  to  console  me,  of  Randolph  to 
Sunshine. 

I  put  a  bold  face  upon  it,  and  turned  round  to  him. 

"  You  are  a  mocker,  I  perceive,  sir.  Have  you  any 
question  you  would  wish  answered?" 

"Certainly,"  said  Randolph.  "Ask  them,  will  you,  if 
my  father  is  right  in  his  religious  opinions,  and  how  ho 
feels  in  the  other  world  ?" 


RANDOLPH   GORDON.  C7 

"The  devil!"  thought  I;  "was  your  father  an  ortho- 
dox gentleman,  or  a  good-for-nothing  vaurien,  like  your 
self,  I  wonder?  I  knew  he  did  something  about  the 
church-rates,  but  whether  it  was  to  hold  them  up  or  pull 
them  down  I  couldn't  for  the  life  of  me  remember;  so  I 
compromised  the  matter,  and  tapped,  and  spelt  a  mild 
reply,  which  trimmed  between  extremes,  like  a  parson  of 
the  "  Broad  Church,"  whose  leanings  are  Low  but  pat- 
rons High,  and  answered  him  "Pretty  well." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Randolph;  "there  is  a  purgatory, 
then,  I  suppose,  contrary  to  the  Church  of  England,  who 
doesn't  allow  any  medium  between  angelic  harps  and 
perpetual  happiness,  and  roaring  fires  and  everlasting 
frying  thereon." 

I  turned  a  deaf  ear  to  his  heretic  mockery,  and  an  at- 
tentive one  to  Mrs.  Tomtit's  quivering  treble,  who,  with 
much  fear  and  trembling,  asked  if  the  spirits  could  lend 
her  any  aid  to  the  discovery  of  a  very  sweet  brooch,  with 
her  little  boy's  hair  in  it,  set  with  emeralds,  recently  lost; 
and  when  we  spelt  her  out  the  spiritual  assistance  convey- 
ed in  the  laconic  sentence,  "  Look  in  your  maid's  boxes," 
her  sense  of  the  marvellous  power  employed,  and  the 
sublimity  of  spiritualism,  was  so  overpowering  that  she 
could  not  resist  the  expression  of  it. 

"  Good  gracious !  Clementina,  isn't  it  most  extraordi- 
nary ?  I  always  knew  that  girl  was  a  thief.  I  was  per- 
fectly certain  of  her.  I  will  give  her  warning  to-morrow. 
Who  could  be  incredulous  after  such  proofs  as  these  ?" 

Altogether,  I  was  going  off  in  flying  colors.  Ran- 
dolph didn't  know  where  to  pick  a  hole  in  me;  Miss 
Clementina  was  deeply  gratified  with  a  reply  concerning 
the  immoral  tendencies  of  the  age;  which  entirely  coin- 
cided with  her  own  private  sentiments.  Pearl  looked 
pale  and  excited,  Rosebud  puzzled;  Mrs.  Tomtit  divided 


68  RANDOLPH   GORDON. 

between  awe  of  the  spirits  and  rejoicing  over  her  beloved 
brooch;  I  was  getting  easy  in  saddle,  and  going  on  au 
grand  galop,  when  Randolph's  little  devil,  with  true 
demoniacal  mischief,  asked,  through  my  agency,  where 
her  younger  brother  was  drowned  ?  Now,  I  had  never 
heard  of  her  having  any  other  brother  than  Freddy;  I 
didn't  know  his  name;  I  hadn't  an  idea  when  he'd  died; 
whether  he  was  locked  up  along  with  Franklin,  or  lying 
under  the  tropic  suns  of  the  Pacific,  I  couldn't  for  the 
life  of  me  divine.  With  a  cold  perspiration  all  over  me, 
in  dread  of  making  a  mistake  in  designating  the  unlucky 
youth's  watery  grave,  I  answered  her  with  a  despairing 
recklessness  of  geography,  "Off  Caxamarquilla." 

"I  am  much  obliged,"  answered  Sunshine,  calmly: 
"but,  imprimis,  Caxamarquilla  is  an  inland  town  in  Peru; 
secondly,  I  never  had  a  brother  drowned;  thirdly,  I  never 
had  a  younger  brother  at  all.  Your  spirits  must  have 
gone  wrong  somehow  or  other,  Mr.  Muffles." 

Oh,  that  Auxerre  carpet  and  that  one  especial  bouquet 
of  roses  and  lilies  just  under  my  feet,  how  I  would  have 
prayed  to  it  if  it  only  had  had  ears  to  hear,  to  open  and 
swallow  me  up,  and  hide  me  for  evermore  froni  human 
eyes;  but,  sauve  qui  peut,  I  had  to  acknowledge  a  blun- 
der, but  referred  it  a  la  professional  medium,  to  the 
"disturbing  influence,"  indicating  Randolph,  I  put  a 
good  face  on  the  blunder,  and  drew  attention  from  it 
with  a  cool  dexterity  quite  worthy  a  real  medium,  I  as- 
sure you,  by  stretching  out  my  hand  to  the  oval  table, 
which  came  after  me  as  docilely  as  a  well-trained  dog, 
ambling  amiably  over  the  bright  flowers  in  the  carpet 
like  a  good-hearted  but  somewhat  clumsy  donkey,  lifting 
its  leg  when  I  raised  my  hand  and  tilting  forward  on  its 
nose  when  I  depressed  it  in  a  lively  and  amusing  man- 
ner, which  quite  covered  over  the  slip  of  Caxamarquilla. 


RANDOLPH   GORDON.  69 

The  table  was  quite  a  lion  ;  it  danced  so  prettily  it  really 
might  have  learned  of  Madame  Michaud-Davis;  every- 
body admired  it,  even  Sunshine  held  her  breath  and 
looked  puzzled;  but  that  wretch  of  a  Randolph,  how 
fearfully  I  hated  him,  once  my  Pylades,  kept  his  abom- 
inable glass  down  upon  me  and  it,  and,  stroking  his 
moustache,  called  out,  just  as  my  table  was  turning 
round  to  come  back  to  its  place, 

"  Miss  Audley,  that  man  is  an  impostor  ;  all  that's  done 
with  a  magnet  ;  if  you'll  allow  me  to  search,  I'll  wager 
any  money  I  find  a  loadstone  in  his  hand  and  a  piece  of 
iron  fixed  under  your  table." 

But  my  staunch  ally  and  apostle,  Miss  Clementina,  cut 
in  and  saved  me  with  that  determined  obstinacy  which, 
in  many  other  disciples  of  other  churches,  passes  current 
as  "faith." 

"  Profanity !"  she  muttered,  disgusted,  turning  her 
back  on  her  bete  noire,  as  I  led  my  table  back  in  tri- 
umph,  taking  very  good  care  that  that  confounded  fel- 
low shouldn't  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  material  means  he 
had  guessed  at  so  shrewdly.  But  I  determined  to  baffle 
him  if  I  could,  and  with  a  severe  solemnity  worthy  of 
Miss  Clementina,  I  told  him  that  the  spirits  would  conde- 
scend to  rebuke  his  mockery,  and  convince  him  against 
his  profane  prejudices  :  and  with  a  bolder  stroke  than  I 
think  any  medium  ever  ventured  on  before,  I  told  him  the 
secret  thoughts  of  each  shovdd  be  revealed,  and  I  tapped 
away  in  grand  style,  and  charging  at  Randolph  first,  told 
him  that  he  was  wishing  time  to  fly  for  the  twenty-eighth  of 
next  month  to  come.  Sunshine  started  and  colored,  and 
Randolph  stared,  though  he  whispered  skeptically  to  her, 

"  That  is  nothing,  he  could  learn  the  day  easy  enough 
from  the  servants ;  though  certainly  I  must  say  the  fel- 
low's hit  on  the  truth  " 


70  RANDOLPH   GOEDON. 

"You,  madam,"  said  I  to  Mrs.  Tomtit,  "are  hoping 
your  husband  will  get  the  deanery,  and  that  your  entre- 
mets, when  the  bishop  dines  with  you  on  Tuesday,  will 
beat  Mrs.  Babbicombe's  hollow." 

Mrs.  Tomtit  opened  her  lips  and  eyes,  and  sank  back 
in  her  chair  aghast ;  the  deanery  and  the  entremets  were 
the  objects  of  her  extremest  solicitude  ;  she  couldn't 
gainsay  it. 

"  And  you,  young  lady,"  said  I,  turning  to  Pearl,  after 
a  little  more  tapping  and  spelling,  "  are  wishing  that 
sharp  words,  spoken  in  a  moment  of  irritation  at  fancied 
insult  could  be  recalled,  and  the  person  whom  you  love 
be  induced  to  forget  them." 

"  He  is  right  there,  Pearl,  I  am  sure,"  whispered  Sun- 
shine. 

I  caught  Pearl's  low-answering  "  Yes."  And  so  did 
Randolph,  for  even  he,  the  unbeliever,  stroked  his  mous- 
taches, puzzled  and  astonished,  and  tempted  to  think 
there  must  be  something  in  it  after  all.  As  for  me,  I  was 
in  such  a  state  of  delirious  ecstasy,  that  I  tapped  away 
at  a  mad  canter,  and,  determined  to  pay  Miss  Clementina 
off  for  all  she'd  made  me  suffer,  turned  sharp  on  to  her 
with  a  spiritual  communication. 

"And  you,  madam,  are  thinking  that  if  your  friend 
happened  kindly  to  die,  what  a  much  better  clergyman's 
wife  you'd  make  in  her  stead  for  your  old  love,  the  Rev- 
erend Thomas  Tomtit." 

Mrs.  Tomtit  sprang  from  her  chair  with  a  shrill  shriek, 
then  fell  back  into  it  in  hysterics,  beating  the  carpet  fran- 
tically with  her  little  satin  slippers. 

" Perfidious  wretch !  My  friend! — my  bosom  friend! 
Oh,  Clementina,  how  I  have  trusted  you!  how  I  have 
loved  you !  and  for  what  ?" 

Miss  Clementina  sat  bolt  upright,  her  eyeballs  distend- 


RANDOLPH  GORDON.  71 

ed,  her.  lips  blanched,  in  an  attitude  of  frozen  horror. 
She,  the  immaculate  spinster,  the  spotless,  the  spiritual, 
the  virtuous,  to  whom  love  seemed  a  folly,  thoughts  of 
marriage  profanity,  to  be  told  that  she  coveted  her  neigh- 
bor's husband,  and  committed  murder  in  her  thoughts ! 

I  was  at  the  culmination  of  my  glory.  I  stretched  my 
hand  towards  the  end  of  the  room  :  "  See,  the  spirits 
themselves  attest  to  my  veracity!"  and  there,  in  the 
gloaming,  stretched  a  white,  shadowy,  ghostly  arm,  trac- 
ing in  phosphorus  on  the  wall  the  words,  "  Scoffers  be- 
ware and  tremble!" 

The  Tomtit's  shrieks  redoubled  ;  Pearl  and  Rosebud 
screamed  ;  Miss  Clementina  sat  staring  at  it,  speechless 
as  a  marble  statue  ;  even  Sunshine  clung  close  to  Ran- 
dolph, but  he — oh,  devil  take  him  ! — sprang  up.  "  By 
Jove !  there's  the  spirit  made  manifest  in  the  flesh,  and 
no  mistake!  Let  me  go,  my  darling !"  And  striding 
over  the  room,  my  evil  genius  caught  the  ghostly  arm  with 
exceedingly  material  strength,  and  giving  it  no  very  gen- 
tle tug,  Marie,  standing  perdue  behind  the  curtains,  fell 
forward,  through  the  satin  damask,  into  his  arms. 

"  Oh,  M.  le  Colonel,  de  grace !  vous  me  faites  du  mal ! 
Vous  etes  si  forts,  vous  autres  Anglais !" 

"  Here's  an  abominable  imposture !"  said  Randolph, 
angrily.  "  Miss  Audley,  you  must  allow  me  to  go  to  the 
bottom  of  this.  Your  own  servants  are  in  the  plot  ;  we 
will  soon  sift  it.  As  for  this  fellow,  a  month  at  the  tread- 
mill will  do  him  a  vast  deal  of  good  ;  he  can  practise  hi3 
shams  at  leisure  there."  With  which  he  seized  hold  of 
me,  caught  my  snowy  beard,  which  came  off  in  his  clutch, 
and  let  go  his  hold,  falling  back  with  my  hirsute  appen- 
dages dangling  from  his  hand,  fairly  startled  and  bewil- 
dered for  once  in  his  life  of  skepticism  and  sang-froid  : 
"  Hallo  !— Good  Heavens !— By  George !" 


72  RANDOLPH   GORDON. 

"  What  is  it  ?"  cried  Sunshine,  clinging  to  her  lover. 

"What's  the  matter?"  screamed  Rosebud,  ringing  the 
bell  frantically. 

"Thieves!  fire!  murder!  help,  help,  somebody!" 
shrieked  the  incoherent  and  excitable  Tomtit,  beating  that 
wild  tattoo  ivpon  the  carpet  which  passes  under  the  suave 
cognomen  of  hysteria. 

"  Mon  Dieu  !  mon  Dieu  !  comme  j'ai  ete  bete !"  sobbed 
Marie. 

"  The  devil !  shan't  we  catch  it,  all  of  us !"  moaned 
Freddy. 

"  By  Jove  !  old,  boy,  I'm  doomed  to  bring  you  to  grief," 
sighed  Randolph. 

"  Cosmo,  is  it  you  ?"  murmured  Pearl,  white  as  a  ver- 
itable spirit  herself. 

Pearl  looked  up,  a  crimson  flush  on  her  face,  excited, 
terrified,  amazed. 

Wild  was  the  dismay  ;  loud  the  chattering  of  tongues  ; 
fiercely  rang  Rosebud's  peals  at  both  the  bells  :  awfully 
shrill  rose  the  sharp  shrieks  of  the  prostrate  Tomtit  ; 
great  was  the  rush  of  many  feet,  as  every  domestic  in  the 
servants'  hall  poured  in,  confident  that  the  "  sperits  "  had 
been  guilty  of  a  double,  triple,  perhaps  quadruple  mur- 
der ;  and  amidst  the  hubbub,  the  uproar,  the  fright,  the 
screams,  Miss  Clementina  sat  bolt  npright,  as  a  marble 
goddess  might  sit  unmoved  amidst  an  Irish  riot,  with  iron 
rigidity  and  stony  eyeballs  and  paralysed  nerves,  and 
when  she  strugg  ed  for  speech  we  caught  the  hoarse  and 
solemn  murmur, 

"  I,  to  be — be  told  I  love  another  woman's  husband ! — 
to  live  to  be  insulted  thus!" 


Need  I  say  that  Marie  was  turned  away  the  very  next 


RANDOLPH   GORDON.  73 

morning  ;  Freddy  nearly  killed  with  the  terrors  of  the 
Damocles'  sword  of  disinheritance  that  was  hung,  in  ter- 
rorum,  above  his  head  ;  that  Miss  Clementina  and  Mrs. 
Tomtit  never  spoke  again  for  ten  whole  days  ;  that  I  was 
forbidden  the  house  in  real  and  unrelaxing  exile  ;  and 
never,  while  she  lives,  will  its  mistress  pardon  me  the  in- 
sults of  that  seance.  Dire  as  the  wrath  is,  however,  I 
have  strength  to  bear  it,  for  when  I  was  turned  from  the 
house  in  majestic  fury  that  night,  somebody  else  followed 
me  out  under  the  stars,  and  I  asked  her  not  in  vain  this 
time,  "  Pearl,  will  you  forgive  me  now  ?"  As  for  Ran- 
dolph and  Sunshine,  the  misery  Miss  Clementina  pro- 
phesied for  them  is  very  bearable  at  present,  I  believe, 
though  two  days  after  that  longed  for  "twenty-eighth," 
Randolph,  sitting  in  a  window  looking  on  to  Windermere, 
put  down  his  Times  ,  and  took  the  mouth  of  his  hookah 
out  of  his  lips,  when  he  saw  Sunshine  standing  by  him, 
buttoning  her  gloves,  with  her  hat  on,  and  otherwise  got 
up  in  general  walking  costume. 

"  Where  are  you  going,  my  pet  ?"  he  asked  ;  "  it's  only 
just  eleven.  I  haven't  done  smoking,  nor  even  looked  at 
the  Times.  It's  so  very  early  to  turn  out,  don't  you 
think?" 

"  Yes  ;  but  I  am  going  by  myself,"  answered  his  nou- 
velle  mariee. 

"  By  yourself !  I  dare  say  I'll  let  you,"  laughed  Ran- 
dolph, amazed.  There  were  no  shops  on  the  lake,  and 
for  this  period  of  sublimated  existence  he  had  chosen, 
expres,  a  county  in  which  he  hadn't  a  single  acquaintance 
to  bother  him  and  spoil  his  elysium. 

Sunshine  held  out  her  hand  to  him,  with  an  exjnression 
of  deep-seated  melancholy  on  that  radiant  face  which 
had  gained  her  sobriquet,  and  a  sigh  loud  enough  to  be 

heard  over  Windermere. 

4 


74  RANDOLPH  GORDON. 

"I  am  come  to  bid  you  good-by!" 

"  To  bid — me — good-by  !"  re-echoed  Kandolph,  star- 
tled into  genuine  anxiety  and  the  greatest  amazement. 
"  My  darling  Sunshine,  what  is  the  matter  ?  What  do 
you  mean — what  has  happened  ?" 

Sunshine  shook  her  head  with  another  profound  sigh, 
and  held  out  her  hand  a  second  time. 

"Don't  you  remember  telling  me  that  if  ever  you  mar- 
ried, two  days  would  be  the  extreme  of  your  fidelity  to 
any  woman  ?  I  don't  wish  to  try  your  patience,  nor  yet 
to  wait  to  be  turned  out,  so  I  am  come  to  take  leave  of 
you  ;  but  we  can  part  in  peace,  you  know,  and  I  won't 
speak  very  badly  of  you.     Good-by,  monsieur." 

Kandolph  shouted  with  laughter,  then  caught  her  up 
in  his  arms  and  kissed  her  fifty  times.  What  further  an- 
swer he  gave  is  not  upon  record,  but  I  suppose  it  was  a 
vow  to  be  faithful  to  her  for  a  few  days  more  at  the  least, 
for  he  and  his  "  little  devil"  are  not  likely  to  part  as  yet. 


HOW  ONE  FIRE  LIT  ANOTHER. 


HOW  ONE  FIRE  LIT  ANOTHER; 

OK, 

THE   MISCHIEF   DONE   BY    MY   PHOTOGRAPH 


ROYSTON    TREVELYAN. 

"We  had  been  up  the  Mer  de  Glace  that  afternoon, 
stretching  our  legs  over  the  ice  plains,  leaping  the  cre- 
vasses, and  broiled  like  a  salmon  over  a  Highland  fire  in 
the  scorching  ride  homeward;  but  now  we  had  got  cool, 
and  calm,  and  comfortable  again,  as  we  sat  smoking  and 
drinking,  and  doing  the  dolce  in  the  window  of  an  hotel 
in  Chamounix,  on  the  evening  of  the  19th  July,  1855. 

I  belong  to  Lincoln's  Inn,  if  you  wish  to  know,  where 
/  hang  out,  keep  a  boy  as  sharp  as  a  needle,  and  a  con- 
stant supply  of  French  novels  and  Brighton  Tipper,  but 
never  can  manage  to  find  any  brief  that  will  keep  me  ;  so, 
having  a  fancy  to  do  Switzerland  once  more,  I  had  noth- 
ing to  retard  me,  and  armed  with  a  passport,  a  wide- 
awake, photographic  implements,  and  innumerable  bot- 
tles, with  which  I  had  ruined  my  hands,  iron-moulded  one 
dozen  Corazzas  irrecoverably,  and  yet  could  not  prevail 
on  myself  to  leave  behind   me,  set   out  forthwith."     At 


78  HOW   ONE   FIRE  LIT  ANOTHER. 

Duomo  d'Ossoli  I  fell  in  with  the  man  I  like  the  best  of 
anybody  going,  Royston  Trevelyan,  and  we  came  on  to- 
gether with  the  fellow  he  was  travelling  with,  Popham, 
Lord  Freshlacquers's  son;  and  in  the  window  at  Cha- 
moiuiix  sat  these  "  spirits  twain "  with  me.  They  are 
about  as  unlike  as  a  sturdy  rough  shooting  pony  is  un- 
like a  Derby  winner  in  high  condition,  Pop  being  a  short, 
square,  lfttle  chap  about  eighteen,  with  red  whiskers,  and 
merry  eyes,  who,  well  mounted,  will,  however,  look  all 
over  like  going,  and  finds  his  mission  he  in  the  open 
rather  than  the  drawing-room.  Trevelyan,  au  contraire — 
though  I  can  witness  that  his  strong  muscles  tell  in  a 
slashing  stroke  through  a  heavy  swell,  a  firm  hand  on 
the  ribbons,  and  a  hit  from  the  straightening  of  his  left 
arm  calculated  to  send  down  a  man  like  an  ox — is  grace- 
ful and  well  knit  rather  than  herculean  or  robust,  and 
his  face Well,  if  you  had  seen  its  proud  regular  fea- 
tures, veloutes  eyes,  and  beautiful  mouth,  it  would  proba- 
bly have  haunted  you,  mademoiselle,  as,  one  way  or 
another,  it  has  haunted  a  good  many. 

"Horrid  slow  place,  ain't  it?"  growled  little  Pop,  ob- 
scuring himself  in  smoke. 

"  No,  I  like  that  old  fellow,"  answered  Trevelyan,  indi- 
cating Mont  Blanc,  with  his  pipe-stem.  "  Look  at  him 
now,  with  the  sunset  glow  on  him !  Glorious,  by 
George !  better  than  a  drop  scene,  or  a  race  course,  or 
the  Cremorne  lamps  to  look  at." 

Pop  made  me  a  wry  face. 

"  Hum !  Well,  give  me  a  two-year-old,  with  his  body 
clothing  off,  and  Frank  Butler  on  his  back,  against  all 
the  old  piles  of  snow  that  ever  provoked  one  to  break 
one's  neck  climbing  up  'em ;  and  as  for  the  sunset — what 
d'ye  call  it — I  vow  the  glow  on  Eudoxie's  cheek,  though 
it  is  rouge,  is  ten  times  prettier." 


HOW   ONE   FIEE  LIT   ANOTHER.  79 

Trevelyan  smiled  quizzically  and  contemptuously. 

"You're  new  to  your  game,  Pop.  By-and-by  you'll 
find  it  so  tame  and  stale,  like  pheasant  shooting  with 
birds  that  come  down  of  their  own  accord  to  be  shot, 
that  you'll  be  glad  to  come  out  into  the  woods  and  hills 
for  a  little  bit  of  nature.  One  may  look  so  long  at  the 
gas  flowers  of  Mabille  that  one  is  glad  to  take  a  turn  at 
the  Alpine  clochettes  for  a  change." 

"  Eh '?"  said  Pop,  slightly  bewildered.  "  Do  you  mean 
ycu'd  rather  gather  a  handful  of  those  weeds  than  have  a 
turn  at  that  divine  Closerie  des  Lilas  ?" 

"  When  I  am  bored  by  the  Closerie  des  Lilas — yes." 

"Hum!"  meditated  Pop.  "Well,  I  was  never  bored 
in  Paris,  and  am  bored  here;  horribly  bored,  I  confess!" 

Trevelyan  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  Sorry  for  you,  mon  cher.  Stars  are  holes  in  the  sky 
to  Hodge,  and  living  worlds  to  Herschel.  If  you  weren't 
born  with  any  perception  of  nature,  I  suppose  you  can't 
help  yourself  ?" 

"  No,  and  don't  want." 

"  What  a  merciful  provision,  isn't  it,  Temple,"  laughed 
Trevelyan,  "  that  young  cubs  like  this,  created  blind  and 
deaf,  don't  pine  their  lives  out  for  other  people's  eye- 
glasses and  oral  nerves  ?" 

"  Don't  poke  fun  at  a  fellow,"  growled  Pop.  "  Tou'vo 
a  big  brain-box,  and  shouldn't  sneer  at  a  man  who 
hasn't." 

"  /  brains !  My  dear  boy,  you're  quite  wrong,  I  assure 
you.  I  might  have  had,  perhaps,  if  I'd  gone  on  working 
them  when  I  left  Cambridge,  but  they're  all  run  to  seed 
now — smoked  away  in  Cavendish  and  fuddled  away  in 
your  favorite  Chaumiere,  and  driven  away  by  wander- 
ing up  and  down  the  earth,  and  walking  to  and  fro  on  it." 

"  How  is  it,  then,"  said  I,  "  if  a  fellow  wants  to  know 


80  HOW   OXE  FIRE  LIT  ANOTHER. 

anything — if  it's  about  a  place  in  the  Antipodes,  the  best 
recipe  to  brown  a  gun  or  waterproof  his  boots,  the  last 
news  by  the  telegraph  or  the  latest  start  in  science,  the 
newest  fly  for  trolling  or  the  best  view  of  politics — you 
have  it  all  at  your  fingers'  ends,  and  can  tell  him  no  end 
about  any  of  them  ?" 

"Nonsense!"  said  Trevelyan.  "I  go  about  with  my 
eyes  open,  of  course,  and  pick  up  a  smattering  here  and 
there;  but  it's  much  like  what  the  old  French  chiffonniers 
pick  up  in  their  rag-baskets — worthless  bits  of  glass  and 
straw  and  dirty  rubbish  out  of  all  the  puddles,  and  very 
seldom  a  Nap  or  so  with  the  true  ring  about  it.  Look 
out  on  your  own  account,  both  of  you,  and  you  won't 
think  much  of  my  collection.  The  magicians  were  very 
great  guns  to  poor  Pharaoh,  but  now  we  have  Houdin 
and  Frikell,  they  don't  greatly  impose  upon  us." 

"  Confound  you  !  Royston.  Why  will  you  always  run 
yourself  down?"  I  said. 

"I  don't  run  myself  down.  I  only  speak  the  truth, 
and  I  want  Pop  there  not  to  bow  in  that  idiotic  way 
before  a  gingerbread  god.  If  he  go  and  deify  me,  he'll 
come  to  a  large  amount  of  grief." 

"What  are  those  lines,"  began  Pop,  diving  into  the 
recesses  of  his  memory  as  a  landlord  dives  into  his  lower 
cellars  for  the  '15  port  when  he  finds  you  too  wide  awake 
to  swallow  South  African.  "I  turned 'em  into  Greek 
hexameters,  I  know,  at  Eton — at  least,  that  young  devil 
Brigham  did  for  me.  I  don't  know  whose  they  are — 
Tennyson's,  I  fancy: 

Knowledge  is  humble 

no,  that  ain't  it: 

Knowledge  is  prond 


HOW  ONE  FIRE  LIT  ANOTHER,  81 

All !  that's  the  ticket — 


Knowledge  is  proud  that  she  has  learnt  no  more, 
Wisdom  is  humble  that  she  knows  no  more. 


That   suits   Trevelyan,    don't  it,  Temple?" 

"  Me  ?"cried  Trevelyan,  laughing.  "  Thank  you,  old 
fellow,  but  I'm  afraid  I  can't  lay  more  claim  to  wisdom 
than  a  passee  beauty  to  naive  simplicity.  But,  for 
mercy's  sake,  you  young  Goth,  don't  go  giving  the  credit 
of  those  lines  to  Tennyson.  He  couldn't  pen  anything 
so  sensible  to  save  his  life,  though,  while  he  smokes  his 
darling  tobacco,  he  can  turn  on  love  and  bosh  like  Impe- 
rial gas,  at  so  much. per  foot;  and  a  very  good  trade  he 
makes  of  it,  too,  half  the  world  being  spooneys,  whom  he 
saves  the  trouble  of  writing  their  love-letters,  and  the 
other  half,  fools,  who  always  join  in  crowning  Aristides 
or  in  ostracising  him,  whichever  chance  to  be  the  fash- 
ion." 

"  Who  did  write  'em,  then  ?"  asked  Pop. 

"  A  man  who  compressed  more  meaning  and  more  wit 
into  one  of  his  polished  periods  than  our  poets  run  mad 
can  get  into  quarto  volumes  of  their  maundering  senti- 
mentalities or  meaningless  satire.  They  talk  of  the 
Temple  of  the  Ideal;  I  take  it  the  Muses  got  better 
served  in  the  grotto  at  Twickenham." 

"The  Star  and  Garter,  you  mean,"  interrupted  Pop> 
who  was  half  listening  and  half  absorbed  in  settling  his 
pipe.  "  Of  course,  they  wait  on  you  well  there,  and 
prettily  they  make  you  pay  for  it,  too ;  but  that's  at  Rich- 
mond, not  Twickenham.  Come,  old  boy,  I've  caught  you 
tripping  now.     What  are  you  two  fellows  laughing  at  ?" 

"Nothing,"  said  I;  "only  you  are  the  greatest  goose, 
my  boy,  that  ever  wore  a  coronet." 

4* 


82  HOW  ONE  FIRE  LIT  ANOTHER. 

"  '  Mais  quelle  latitude  enorme !'  "   quoted   Trevelyan. 

"I'm  wide  awake  enough  in  some  things,"  protested 
Pop;  "I  should  like  to  see  the  man  who'd  do  me  with  a 
bit  of  horseflesh;  and  as  for  dogs,  there's  not  a  better 
judge  of  a  young  pup  than  I  am." 

"  Your  own  species,  mon  enfant,"  said  Trevelyan. 

"Get  out,"  growled  Pop;  "you  always  make  game  of 
a  fellow — never  was  such  a  hard  hitter.  However,  I 
don't  care;  if  I  haven't  brains,  I  shall  have  forty  thou- 
sand a  year,  and  people  will  make  believe  I'm  a  Solon.' 

"A  Solan  goose,  then,"  laughed  Trevelyan.  "Ah, 
there  come  those  fellows.  Lascelles  looks  seedy;  he's 
soon  done  up." 

The  two  feUows  alluded  to  were  two  acquaintances  of 
Trevelyan's  we  had  lighted  on  the  day  before;  one  of 
them,  Oakes,  a  man  with  a  thousand  or  so  a  year,  which 
all  went  in  supposititious  early  masters — very  early  ones 
indeed,  done  out  of  all  drawing,  and  admirably  smoked 
by  young  Giottos,  of  Poland  street — he  having  the  mis- 
fortune to  be  bitten  by  pre-Eaphaehtism;  and  the  other, 
Lascelles,  a  tolerably  rich  fellow  also,  who  always  lived 
abroad,  having  a  nice  villa  at  Florence,  and  was  much  set 
upon  by  young  ladies  in  consequence,  but  affected  nil 
adniirari-isin,  and  took  none  of  them.  He  was  good-look- 
ing— with  the  exception  of  an  intolerably  hooked  nose — 
and  well  informed,  but,  somehow  or  other,  I  never  could 
like  him;  at  football,  I  remember,  he  invariably  had  his 
shins  so  kicked  that  he  was  laid  up  for  a  fortnight. 

"Well,"  said  he,  as  they  came  through  the  window 
and  sat  down  with  us,  "  I've  been  thinking  we  were  great 
donkeys  to  go  up  that  snow  hill  only  just  to  come  down 
again.  We've  done  it  all  before,  and  it  was  so  confound- 
edly hot." 

"I  don't  think  so,"  said  Trevelyan;  "it's  always  good 


HOW   ONE  FIRE   LIT  ANOTHER.  83 

to  stretch  one's  muscles,  and  those  guides  are  such  plucky 
fellows !  the  best  men  I've  seen  for  a  long  time." 

"It's  their  trade,"  answered  Lascelles:  "we  pay  them 
for  it." 

"  But  every  man  doesn't  do  what  he's  paid  for,  or  your 
uncle,  Lascelles,  would  not  pocket  fourteen  hundred  a 
year  in  tithes,  and  keep  abroad  for  his  health  nine 
months  out  of  the  twelve.  However,  his  parish  may 
benefit  by  that,  so  I  won't  sit  in  judgment.  By  George !" 
cried  Trevelyan,  "look  there!  there's  the  girl  you  fell  in 
love  with  at  the  Cascade  des  Pelerins,  Pop.  Look !  the 
other  side  of  the  street." 

"Ain't  she  a  little  dear!"  cried  Pop,  enthusiastically; 
"  so  neat  about  the  pasterns — stands  up  so  clean !" 

"  She'd  look  nice  properly  dressed,"  observed  Oakes, 
critically;  "  take  away  that  crinoline,  and  give  some  long 
blue  flowing  robe." 

"That  would  make  her  look  like  a  broomstick  with 
clothes  on  by  accident,"  said  Trevelyan;  "perhaps  you'd 
like  to  redden  her  hair  whilst  you're  about  it,  Oakes  ?" 

"  Too  petite — nothing  much  in  her,"  sneered  Lascelles, 
who  loved  to  find  spots  on  the  sun. 

"Deuced  good  walk,  though,  and  nice  complexion," 
went  on  the  more  material  Pop.  "Just  the  right  size. 
I  never  like  'em  more  than  fifteen  hands  high — I  mean — 
confound  it,  what  do  I  mean? — Trevelyan,  what's  the 
rkjht  height  for  a  woman  ?" 

"Opinions  differ,  my  dear  boy;  one  man  likes  one 
thing,  one  another.  It  depends,  too,  on  the  role  you 
want  her  to  play,  whether  it's  the  stately,  dignified  Ve- 
nus Victrix,  to  keep  her  lovers  in  subjection  and  henpeck 
her  husband,  or  whether  to  go  in  for  the  Dickens's  Dora 
stakes,  to  play  with  us  as  a  kitten  plays  with  a  ball  of 
cotton,    always  mischievous,   and  always  unpunished." 


84  HOW  ONE  FIKE  LIT   ANOTHEft. 

"  Which  is  your  style  ?" 

"  Oh,  the  last.  I  should  hate  a  wife  whom  I  should 
have  to  keep  like  a  Parian  statuette  under  a  glass  case, 
and  only  touch  respectfully  with  a  feather-duster.  I 
should  like  somebody  not  above  talking  nonsense  and 
being  petted,  but  with  head  and  pluck  of  her  own  never- 
theless. Give  me  a  butterfly  in  the  sunshine  against  the 
handsomest  iceberg  going."  And  Trevelyan  lifted  his 
glass  at  the  one  under  disquisition,  who  had  nothing  of 
the  iceberg  about  her  as  she  walked  along,  as  if  she  en- 
joyed herself,  and  wished  all  the  world  to  do  the  same. 

Trevelyan  beckoned  a  Swiss  to  him. 

"  Philippe,  dites-moi  qui  est  cette  jeune  demoiselle,  qui 
se  promene  la-bas  avec  le  vieux  monsieur." 

"  lis  zont  M'sieu  et  Ma'amselle  Luard,"  responded 
Philippe,  in  his  vile  patois,  "  v'nus  par  vetturino  de  St. 
Geant  il  y  a  deux  jours,  milor." 

"Est-elle  dong  ce  maisong?"  asked  Pop. 

"Si,  M'sieu." 

"  Philippe,"  laughed  Trevelyan,  "  je  n'ai  point  de  titre. 
C'est  ce  monsieur-ci  qui  est  milor." 

"  Est-ce  possible  ?"  cried  Philippe,  naively.  "  Mais 
c'est  vous,  M'sieu,  qui  a  l'air  de  milor." 

Pop  screamed  with  laughter.  * 

"  Bravo,  Philippe,  you're  a  discerning  individual, 
though  you  have  lived  up  in  these  blessed  mountains  all 
your  days.  Tip  me  the  Cavendish.  Donnez-moi  le 
baccy.  Grazia.  I  say,  how  confoundedly  tired  I  am. 
Ain't  you?     I  shall  just  finish  this  pipe  and  turn  in." 

We  were  all  done  up,  and  turned  in  early,  there  being 
no  lansquenet,  Crernorne,  ballet,  or  oyster  supper,  not 
even  the  ghost  of  milk  punch,  or  the  shadow  of  a  pack  of 
cards  to  keep  us  awake,  only  the  stars  coming  out  over 
the  high  white  peaks  and  low  Alpine  valley,  which  none 


HOW  ONE  FIRE    LIT  ANOTHER.  85 

of  us  cared  to  see  except  Trevelyan,  who  walked  up  and 
down  the  little  wooden  bridge  over  the  Arve  for  half  au 
hour  to  enjoy  them  or  his  pipe  in  peace. 

Philippe  was  quite  right  that  "  nailor"  suited  Trevelyan 
much  better  than  Pop,  insomuch  as  the  one  was  a  gentle- 
man in  birth,  manners,  and  mind,  while  the  other  never 
was  a  gentleman,  and  never  could  be,  and  graced  it  not 
at  all. 

Trevelyan  was  a  physician — none  of  your  Edinburgh, 
Aberdeen,  or  10/.  German  diploma  men,  but  a  graduate 
of  Trinity,  and  a  regular  Cambridge  and  London  bona 
fide  M.D.  Very  clever  he  was  ;  yet  not  clever  enough  to 
go  quietly  with  the  tide,  humor  people's  prejudices,  and 
humbug  them  with  homoeopathy;  not  patient  enough, 
moreover,  for  the  steady  climb  through  long  years  of  hos- 
pital practice  and  self-mortification  that  lead  a  London 
physician  to  the  top  of  the  hill.  He  was  rather  addicted 
to  roaming,  too;  and  as  patients  are  not  overpleased  at 
finding  their  practitioner  gone  off  to  Pome,  or  Baden,  or 
Norway,  at  all  sorts  of  irregular  seasons,  Royston,  hav- 
ing some  small  means  of  his  own,  had  not  tied  himself 
down  anywhere  to  turn  his  splendid  intellectual  powers 
into  tin,  but  lived  here  and  there  at  his  will.  Just  now, 
the  Earl  of  Freshlacquers,  who  had  been  an  old  friend  of 
his  father's,  was  giving  him  a  good  lot  of  tin  to  act  as 
bear-leader  to  his  only  son.  A  stronger  young  Antaeus 
than  sturdy,  red-haired,  open-hearted,  wooden-headed 
little  Pop  never  breathed,  but  Freshlacquers,  trembling 
over  the  heir  to  his  Brummagem  coronet  as  an  old  hen 
over  a  duck  she  has  reared  when  she  sees  it  go  into  the 
water,  always  rode  as  his  pet  hobby  that  Pop's  lungs 
were  affected,  and  on  Pop's  leaving  Eton  begged  and 
prayed  Trevelyan  to  watch  assiduously  over  his  scion's 
body  and  soul     Trevelyan  was  happy  to  make  the  tin  — 


86  HOW   ONE   FIEE  LIT  ANOTHTK. 

be  was  rather  fond  of  Pop,  too,  in  a  way,  enjoying  hia 
freshness  and  zest  for  pleasure — Freshlacquers  was  de- 
lighted to  get  a  thorough-bred  man  of  talent  to  lick  his 
rough  cub  into  shape ;  so  Royston  acquiesced,  only  stipu- 
lating that  he  might  give  the  boy  his  swing,  to  which  the 
Earl,  who  had  unbounded  respect  for  his  opinion,  con- 
senting, the  boy  had  his  swing,  and  uncommonly  enjoyed 
it  too,  though  whether  petits-verres,  the  bouquet  of 
Lafitte,  suppers  in  cabinets  particuliers,  &c.  &c,  are  ap- 
proved recipes  for  health,  I  cannot  say.  I  fell  in  with 
these  two,  as  I  told  you,  at  Duomo  d'Ossoli,  and  de- 
lighted I  was,  for  if  I  do  love  any  man  it  is  Royston,  and 
we  naturally  went  on  together.  He's  a  capital  compan- 
ion at  home  or  abroad;  at  a  tete-a-tete  dinner  with  him 
in  his  own  rooms,  or  at  a  table  d'hote  at  the  Bads,  I 
must  say  he's  delightful;  and  though  he  is  occasionally 
restless  and  dissatisfied,  and  given  to  the  mood  of  that 
keen-sighted  man  Solomon  the  Preacher,  he  was  enjoying 
himself  just  now,  throwing  himself  into  the  physical  ex- 
ertion with  no  end  of  verve,  and  enjoying  the  free,  un- 
trammelled, wandering  life  under  the  blue  skies  of  the 
god  of  his  idolatry — Nature. 


n. 


FLORESTFNE    LUARD. 


"  The  hotel's  on  fire  !  the  hotel's  on  fire!"  Not  pleas- 
ant words,  ami  lecteur,  to  startle  you  out  of  your  slum- 
bers, particularly  when  you  are  dead  beat,  and  feel  noth- 
ing in  the  world  would  make  you  get  up  short  of  the 
advent  of  a  Yenus  Aphrodite  out  of  the  Arve.   . 


HOW  ONE  FIRE  LIT  ANOTHER.  87 

I  sprang  out  of  bed,  confounding  everything  and  every- 
body, to  find  Chamounix  on  fire,  and  our  hotel  too.  I 
rushed  into  Trevelyan's  room  and  found  him  up,  with 
lit  le  Pop;  the  one  looking  cool  and  calm,  the  other  curi- 
ously attired,  and  helplessly  sleepy. 

"  What  the  devil  are  you  doing,  Eoyston  ?"  said  I. 
"  Don't  you  know  the  hotel's  on  fire  ?  Packing  butter- 
flies, as  I  live  !  Well,  that  is  a  rum  idea,  when  every- 
body else  is  running  for  his  life." 

"If  everybody  else  is  a  fool,  that's  no  reason  why  I 
should  be  one  too,"  laughed  Trevelyan,  putting  up  his 
moths  and  butterflies  carefully.  "Look!  we  are  all 
right,  my  windows  open  on  the  garden.  Let's  carry  the 
trunks  out  there,  and  then  we'll  go  and  help  the  poor 
wretches." 

Badly  enough  the  poor  wretches  wanted  help,  being  ut- 
terly incapable  themselves  of  any  sane  or  rational  action. 
'Pon  my  life,  when  we  got  outside,  and  found  ourselves 
in  the  midst  of  the  row,  our  first  impulse  was  to  laugh. 
To  an  Englishman,  it  was  so  very  queer  to  see  those  un- 
lucky Swiss  flinging  themselves  on  their  knees,  and  cry- 
ing, and  sobbing,  instead  of  trying  to  put  the  fire  out. 
Who  that  was  at  Chamounix  that  day  forgets  how  the 
little  nest  under  the  shelter  of  Mont  Blanc  was  licked  up 
by  piles  of  wood  and  shops,  the  flames  that  hissed  down 
to  the  edge  of  the  Arve,  and  leaped  over  the  low  roofs, 
how  the  peasants  wrung  their  hands,  and  the  cares 
moaned  and  sighed,  and  the  English  tourists  worked  the 
one  little  hand-engine,  passed  tie  watei,  cleared  out  the 
furniture,  and  did  all  the  good  that  was  to  be  done  in 
that  luckless  little  Alpine  village?  I  wish  you  had  all 
seen  Trevelyan  that  day;  'pon  my  word  he  was  grand! 
He  was  everywhere;  stirring  up  the  Swiss,  setting  the 
muleteers    and    guides    to   work,   giving  the  priests   a 


88  HOW   ONE  FIRE   LIT  ANOTHER. 

good  shake,  and  passing  the  tubs  and  buckets,  flinging 
the  water  with  all  his  might,  loading  himself  with  every- 
thing he  could  happen  upon,  carrying  chairs,  tables,  and 
crockery,  swearing  at  the  peasants,  and  laughing  all  the 
while,  as  he  fused  his  own  energy  into  all  the  others 
round  him. 

"Mon  Dieu!  mon  Dieu!"  moaned  Philippe,  on  his 
knees,  "  nous  va  mourir !" 

Trevelyan  gave  him  a  kick.  "  Get  up,  you  fool !  God 
helps  those  who  help  themselves." 

A  cure  was  lifting  his  eyes  to  heaven,  spilling  the  wa- 
ter on  the  ground  in  an  ecstasy  of  prayer.  Royston 
shook  him  by  the  arm.  "  Work — pass  the  water — don't 
sing  psalms  ;  that  water's  worth  more  than  your  words." 

On  went  the  fire,  and  on  he  worked,  the  life  and  soul 
of  us  all,  doing  more  in  five  minutes  with  his  quick  wit 
and  unerring  strength  than  all  those  poor  devils  did  in 
an  hour,  crying  and  sobbing  while  their  houses  were 
burning  down.  Suddenly  he  swung  round:  "By  Jove! 
where's  that  little  girl  Luard  ?  I  haven't  seen  her  any- 
where ;  have  you  ?" 

Nobody  had  seen  either  her  or  her  father  among  the 
crowd,  and  Philippe  threw  himself  on  the  ground,  tear- 
ing his  hair  out  in  handfuls  : 

"  Mon  Dieu !  mon  Dieu !  je  les  ai  oublies.  Scelerat ! 
meurtrier !     Pourquoi  vivez-vous  ?" 

"  Why,  indeed,  since  you're  no  more  use  than  a  block 
of  stone  ?"  said  Trevelyan,  wrathfully.  "  Where  do  they 
sleep  ?" 

"  Numeros  2  et  4,"  sobbed  Philippe.  Before  we  could 
stop  him,  Trevelyan  had  rushed  up  the  smoking,  creak- 
ing staircase,  charred  and  rotten,  and  perilous  to  the 
last  degree.  Pop  dashed  after  him,  so  did  I;  but  he 
pushed  us  down. 


HOW  ONE  FIRE  LIT  ANOTHER.  89 

"Back,  back,  I  say.  Take  care  of  that  boy,  Temple; 
his  life's  of  value." 

Away  he  went  again,  to  his  own  imminent  peril;  then 
we  lost  him  in  the  smoke,  and  I  give  you  my  word,  sir, 
my  heart  beat  fast,  like  a  woman's,  and  I'd  have  seen  all 
Chamounix  go  to  the  inferno  cheerfully  rather  than  a 
hair  of  his  head  should  have  been  injured,  dear  old  fel- 
low !  The  Swiss  looked  after  him  with  open  eyes  and 
mouths.  I  believe  the  prevalent  idea  was  that  he  was 
some  heaven-sent  St.  Michael  or  other,  and  Pop  grasped 
my  arm  in  tremulous  excitement. 

"  By  Jupiter !  if  anything  happen  to  him  I'll  kill  them 
every  man  Jack  of  'em,  dirty  goitred  brutes !  Bravo, 
here  he  comes!  If  he  isn't  a  brick,  nobody  ever  was!" 
Come  he  did  back  again  down  the  smoking,  splitting 
staircase,  with  a  girl  in  his  arms  wrapped  up  in  a  blanket, 
and  an  old  gentleman  hastily  enveloped  in  a  voluptuous 
dressing-gown  following  them,  looking  decidedly  aston- 
ished, and  considerably  peevish.  A  blanket  is  not  an 
embellishing  toilette,  but  nevertheless  Trevelyan,  I  be- 
lieve, liked  the  look  of  his  charge,  with  her  pale  face, 
and  her  hair  streaming  over  her  shoulders,  a  good  deal 
better  than  of  many  women  he'd  seen  got  up  in  tulle 
illusion  and  jewelry.  She  was  clean  gone  in  a  faint;  so 
Trevelyn  carried  her  to  the  hotel  across  the  Arve,  be- 
stowed some  of  his  skill  on  her,  waited  till  he  saw  the 
color  coming  into  her  cheeks,  and  her  eyelids  trembling, 
and  then,  very  self-denyingly,  I  thought,  left  her  in  the 
care  of  one  of  the  lady  tourists,  with  a  brief  "  She'll  do 
now,"  and  set  to  work  again  with  the  fire  brigade,  and 
to  such  purpose  that,  as  everybody  knows,  even  if  Albert 
Smith  has  not  told  him,  the  great  fire  of  Chamounix 
was  out  and  over  by  mid-day. 

All   Chamounix  blessed   Trevelyan,  not  only  for  the 


90  HOW   ONE   FIRE  LIT  ANOTHER. 

help  in  getting  the  fire  turned,  and  the  infusion  of  some 
degree  of  sanity  among  them,  but  for  the  preservation 
of  their  luckless  chairs,  and  tables,  and  crockery,  which 
the  mountaineers  couldn't  have  replaced  in  a  hurry;  and 
were  ready  to  prostrate  themselves  at  his  feet  and  wor- 
ship him  as  their  tutelar  saint.  A  questionable  honor, 
since,  as  he  remarked,  those  beatified  gentlemen-  had  not 
had  the  best  reputation  on  earth,  and  had  bought  their 
canonisation  cheaply,  as  saints  have  a  knack  of  doing 
even  to  this  day. 

I  dare  say  the  thanks  that  pleased  him  most  were 
Florestine  Luard's,  who,  catching  sight  of  him,  seized 
hold  of  his  hand,  and  thanked  him  for  saving  her  life, 
with  the  most  tremendous  eloquence  in  her  words,  looks, 
and  eyes.  Trevelyan  looked  down  on  her  with  his  smile, 
that  is  like  sunshine  when  it  comes.  "Indeed,  you  have 
nothing  to  thank  me  for;  'any  one  of  my  friends  would 
have  been  delighted  to  have  done  the  same." 

"  But  I  should  have  died  without  you  !" 

He  smiled  again.  "  "Well,  you  were  rather  near  being 
scorched,  perhaps;  but  I  assure  you  there  was  nothing 
in  my  simply  mounting  a  staircase  to  require  your  grati- 
tude, though  you  more  than  repay  me  by  it." 

"  And  it  will  not  be  less  because  you  lay  so  little  claim 
to  it,"  said  Florestine,  very  earnestly.  "I  see  you  do 
not  like  to  be  thanked,  but  you  must  let  me  say  what  I 
feel  for  papa  and  myself," 

At  that  juncture  "  papa  "  came  up — a  very  gentleman- 
like individual,  who  had  evidently  been  a  beau,  and  was 
now  a  philosopher — and  who  thanked  Trevelyan  as  if  he 
wa3  thanking  a  man  for  a  present  of  game,  or  an  invita- 
tion to  shoot  over  a  manor,  as  they  exchanged  cards. 
"  Very  much  obliged  to  you,  indeed,  Mr. — Mr.  Trevelyan. 
It  was   very   good  of  you  to  remember  us,  and    I   am 


HOW   ONE  FIRE   LIT  ANOTHER.  91 

deeply  indebted  to  you  for  rescuing  my  daughter  so 
promptly.  Trevelyan !  Are  you  any  relation  to  the  Tre- 
velyans  of  Cornwall  ?" 

"  John  Trevelyan  of  Chetwoode  was  my  father's 
brother,"  said  Eoyston. 

"Indeed!  I  know  him  intimately.  I  shot  over  Chet- 
woode last  October.  I  am  very  glad  to  find  a  relative  of 
his  in  our  brave  deliverer.  I  hope  we  shall  see  more  of 
each  other.  Dine  with  me  to-night,  Mr,  Trevelyan,  and 
you  too  Mr.  Temple — at  least,  if  one  can  get  any  dinner 
to-day  in  this  miserable  place.  I  always  bring  a  few  civ- 
ilised edibles  into  these  outer  barbarian  holes,  or  one 
woidd  be  quite  famished.  Florestine  says  she  likes 
strawberries  and  goat's  milk,  but  I  must  say  I  prefer  or- 
tolans and  hock.  By  the  way,  how  rarely  one  finds  an 
ortolan  that  is  not  a  lark  !  Au  revoir,  monsieur;  you  will 
find  us  migrated  to  the  other  side  of  the  water.  Your 
friend  will  come  with  you.  What  should  we  have  done 
if  all  the  hotels  had  been  burnt  ?" 

Away  went  Mr.  Luard,  as  young  at  seventy  as  if  he 
had  been  forty;  and  Lascelles  (who  being  domiciled  in 
the  aforesaid  hotel  on  the  safe  side  of  the  water,  had  con- 
tented himself  with  leaning  out  of  his  window  with  his 
pipe  in  his  mouth,  and  looking  on  at  the  fire)  lounged  up 
to  us. 

"I  congratulate  you,  Trevelyan.  You've  played  an 
interesting  role,  and  made  a  pleasant  acquaintance.  Un- 
common lucky,  'pon  my  life !" 

"  I  say,  Trevelyan,"  interrupted  little  Pop,  who  had 
singed  off  a  quarter  of  his  red  whiskers,  and  looked,  be- 
ing unwashed,  more  like  a  bit  of  charred  wood  than  an 
Englishman — "I  say,  ain't  it  jolly?  I  do  like  that  girl 
immensely  I" 


92  HOW   ONE   FIKE  LIT  ANOTHER. 

"  I  wish  Millais  had  seen  her  before  he'd  painted  '  The 
Rescue,' "  said  Oakes. 

"  I  don't,"  said  Royston.  "  He'd  have  given  her  car- 
roty hah'  and  a  large  mouth  to  a  certainty.  He  can't 
himself — he's  no  idea  of  a  pretty  "woman." 

" I  don't  admire  her  much,"  sneered Lascelles;  "she's 
so  shockingly  demonstrative — so  much  effusion.  No 
well-bred  lady " 

"  Well-bred  fiddlesticks!"  interrupted  Pop,  contempt- 
uously. "When  you've  saved  a  girl's  life  the  least  she 
can  do  is  to  thank  you  warmly !  Hang  it !  I  hate  a  wo- 
man who'd  give  you  a  bow,  and  wait  to  speak  to  you  till 
etiquette  allowed  her." 

"  Lascelles  would  excuse  himself  from  saving  a  drown- 
ing man  on  the  Frenchman's  plea,  'Never  been  intro- 
duced,' "  laughed  Trevelyan. 

"  Why  was  she  gone  so  white  ?"  asked  Pop,  still  in- 
tent on  one  subject. 

"  The  smoke  was  on  her  chest.  In  another  minute  or 
two  she'd  have  been  suffocated." 

"  Didn't  she  look  charming  asleep  ?" 

"  My  dear  boy,  I  can't  go  in  for  all  your  ecstasies.  I 
never  get  the  steam  up  so  strong — it  wastes  coals  for 
nothing.  With  you,  I  like  the  look  of  her,  but  she 
owes  much  more  to  expression  than  features.  Las- 
celles here  would  adore  her  father.  When  I  woke  him 
up,  he  only  said,  '  A  fire  ?  How  annoying !  If  you  would 
wake  Miss  Luard,  I  will  rise  and  dress.  I  am  sorry  to 
give  you  so  much  trouble.'  He's  a  very  courteous  old 
fellow,  but  decidedly  of  Lascelles's  quiescent  school, 
wrapping  his  dressing-gown  round  him,  and  letting 
others  go  to  the  devil  as  they  please.  Well,  I  think  I'll 
go  and  wash  my  hands.  May  I  use  your  room,  Oakes? 
Won't  you  come,  Pop  ?     You  look  uncommonly  like  an 


HOW  ONE  FIRE  LIT  ANOTHER.  93 

energetic  chimney-sweep  done  in  sepia.  Temple  should 
take  us  all  just  as  we  are  new,  Lascelles  representing  the 
only  clean  and  philosophic  man  among  us,  who  refused 
to  scorch  his  fingers  at  other  people's  fires." 

Trevelyan  and  I  washed  and  redressed  ourselves,  and 
went  to  dine  with  Mr.  Luard,  the  only  man  probably 
who  thought  of  a  dinner-party  at  Chamounix  that  day. 

We  found  them  in  one  of  the  long,  low  rooms,  with  such 
delicacies  as  Luard's  gourmet  foresight  had  induced  him 
to  bring  to  Chamounix,  and  Miss  Florestine  standing  in 
the  window,  very  daintily  got  up  for  a  young  lady  out 
touring.  She  was  not  beautiful,  or  anything  of  that,  but 
she  had  a  thorough-bred  look  about  her,  and  something 
brilliant  and  seduisant  in  her  manners  and  appear- 
ance; there  was  a  radiance  in  her  eyes,  a  smile  on  her 
mignonne  mouth,  and  an  intellectuality  in  her  face  that 
made  her  very  attractive,  after  the  three  classes  of  bread- 
and-butter  misses,  artificial  coquettes,  and  domestic 
drudges,  into  which  women  seem  divided.  She  was  the 
youngest  of  the  family;  her  sisters  were  married,  and  her 
father,  who  had  not  much  money,  and  spent  what  he  had 
on  himself,  lived  here  and  there — six  months  in  Rome, 
nine  in  Paris,  three  in  Baden,  and  so  on — as  the  fancy 
took  him.  He  was  kind  to  his  daughter,  but  cared  no 
more  for  her  than  the  chamois  on  the  hills,  being  an 
agreeable  laissez-dller,  profoundly  selfish  old  gentleman, 
with  his  affections  centred  on  Sternberg,  ecarte,  and 
himself. 

""Will  you  have  a  game,  Mr.  Temple?"  said  he,  after 
our  impromptu  dinner.  "  I  always  bring  a  couple  of 
packs  with  me  into  these  out-of  the-world  places,  so  that 
if  I  meet  with  any  rational  man,  we  can  have  a  little 
quiet  play." 

A  little  quiet  play  we  did  have,  at  a  couple  of  Naps,  a 


94:  HOW  ONE   FIRE  LIT   ANOTHER. 

side,  while  Trevelyan  andFlorestine  chatted  and  laughed, 
agreed  and  disputed,  as  they  had  done  greatly,  it  seemed, 
to  their  own  delectation  throughout  dinner. 

"  Look  at  these  dear  little  Alp  roses,"  said  Florestine. 
showing  him  some  flowers,  "and  these  pretty  clochettes; 
I'm  so  fond  of  that  name,  I  always  fancy  they  are  the 
fairies'  marriage  hells.  Don't  you  ?  How  much  of  life's 
best  poetry  people  lose  who  never  stop  in  their  hurry- 
scurry  through  the  world  to  look  at  such  wayside  beau- 
ties as  these." 

Trevelyan  smiled.  "Look  at  the  other  side  of  the 
picture;  think  what  a  deal  of  land  is  wasted  by  your 
idolised  mountains.  If  the  Arve  were  turning  water- 
wheels,  and  the  Eau  Noire  feeding  machinery,  and  fac- 
tory chimneys  rearing  their  heads  among  the  pines,  and 
the  Savoyards  prosaic  and  clean,  instead  of  picturesque 
and  poverty-stricken " 

"Oh,  taisez-vous !"  cried  Forestine,  horrified.  "You 
are  talking  like  those  dreadful  utilitarians,  who  would 
take  a  rainbow  if  they  could  get  at  it  to  cut  into  ribbons; 
look  at  the  grandest  old  forest  only  with  a  view  to  timber; 
gather  a  darling  crocus  only  with  a  view  to  veratrine; 
and  see  in  the  fairest  spray  of  seaweed  only  so  many 
atoms  of  iodine." 

"  But  if  you  had  a  goitred  throat,  which  Heaven  for- 
bid, you  would  be  very  glad  of  iodine,"  laughed  Royston, 
highly  amused  with  her  impetuosity.  "  If  your  papa 
has  the  gout,  you'll  find  it  fortunate  that  the  crocus 
grows  for  something  besides  looking  pretty;  and,  as  to 
timber — though  you  may  find  it  very  romantic — I  fancy 
you  would  be  the  first  to  be  uncomfortable  in  a  wigwam 
or  a  warry,  and  would  soon  ask  us  for  a  good  sound 
house  of  unromantic  Norwegian  timber." 

"  But  I  am  so  fond  of  pretty  things,"  said  Florestine, 


HOW  ONE  FIRE  LIT  ANOTHER.  95 

plaintively;  and  your  utilitarians  would  take  them  all 
away.  Of  what  use,  in  a  business  point  of  view,  is  a 
Raphael  'Madonna,'  a  'Greek  slave,'  a  Beethoven  sonata ? 
yet  a  thing  of  beauty  is  a  thing  of  joy  forever,  and  the 
world  would  be  a  hopelessly  dreary  desert  without  them." 

"  But  where  would  be  your  Madonna,  and  statue,  and 
sonata  without  those  very  practical  things  to  start  them 
— pigments  and  canvas  for  the  painting;  clay  and  chisel 
for  the  statuary;  wood  and  iron,  and  coarse  workmen's 
hands,  to  produce  the  music?  You  cannot  get  your 
things  of  beauty  without  some  very  prosaic  aid." 

"Well,  perhaps  not;  only,  if  all  the  roads  are  macada- 
mised, we  shall  have  no  delicious  bridle-paths,  with  haw- 
thorns and  violet  banks,  and  the  world  will  be  like  one 
giant  military  map.  Make  the  straight  Roman  road  of 
life  for  commercial  travellers,  but  leave  a  few  forest  lanes 
for  artists,  and  anglers,  and  poets " 

"  And  enthusiasts." 

She  looked  up,  laughing.  "  Oh,  yes;  I  am  an  enthusi- 
ast. So  are  you,  I  dare  say,  though  you  wouldn't  ac- 
knowledge it !" 

"I?"  cried  Trevelyan;  " the  last  man  in  the  world.  I 
have  seen  everything  too  closely  to  have  any  glamour 
left  about  any  subject.  One  pays  too  dear  for  that  sort 
of  indulgence  not  to  soon  try  and  lose  the  habit." 

"  But  I  would  rather  pay  for  a  thing  than  not  enjoy 
it,"  said  epicurean  Florestine.  "I  remember,  when  I 
was  a  child,  having  some  strawberries  given  me,  and, 
like  a  prudent  child,  was  going  to  save  the  large  ones  for 
the  last,  but  papa  recommended  me  to  take  the  best  the 
first,  for  fear  an  earthquake  might  come  and  I  should 
never  finish  my  plateful.  The  argument  struck  me,  and 
I  acted  on  it;  so  I  do  now  enjoy  the  present,  advienne 
que  pourra  1" 


96  HOW   ONE   FIRE   LIT  ANOTHER. 


"I  don't  agree  with  you,"  laughed  Trevelyaa.  "I 
would  make  my  strawberries  into  jam,  and  enjoy  them  all 
the  year  round." 

'•'Possibly,  but  then  if  they  turned  bad  and  fer- 
mented ?" 

"They  wouldn't  ferment  if  they  were  properly  made." 

"But,  perhaps,  just  as  you  were  going  to  eat  your  jam 
your  teeth  might  decay,  and  sweet  things  be  defendues, 
and  then  how  you  would  wish  you  had  eaten  your 
strawberries  while  you  could  enjoy  them." 

"  I  shall  never  have  any  strawberries  to  enjoy,"  smiled 
Trevelyan,  "so  I  shall  not  have  the  option." 

"  Not  ?     Why  ?"  asked  Florestine,  quickly. 

"Because  the  goods  the  gods  give  only  go  where 
there's  money  enough  to  buy  them.  Happiness,  you 
know,  Miss  Luard,  may  stay  with  you  as  long  as  you 
have  a  check-book,  but  if  you  over-draw  your  balance, 
happiness  goes  out  of  the  window." 

"  Yet,"  persisted  Florestine,  "  it  was  a  shrewd  man  of 
the  world — a  man  who,  like  you,  had  seen  all  there  was 
to  be  seen,  and  done  ah  there  was  to  be  done — who 
wrote,  'Better  one  handful  with  quietness  than  two 
handfuls  with  travail  and  vexation  of  spirit.'  ; 

He  laughed.  "  Solomon  was  no  judge.  He  had  every- 
thing he  wanted.  Lying  on  rose-leaves,  it  is  very  easy 
to  recommend  others  straw  and  philosophy." 

"But  do  you  think  Solomon's  life  was  all  rose-leaves?" 

"I'm  sure  I  can't  say.  "When  I  know  so  little  the 
real  opinions  and  feelings  of  men  whom  I  see  daily,  and 
walk  arm-in-arm  with,  I  should  be  very  sorry  to  judge  of 
an  individual  who  dates  back  thousands  of  years." 

"But  radaring  him  bv  yourself?  Human  nature  is 
alike  all  over  the  world;  the  same  identical  thing, 
whether  it  has  a  Roman  toga  over  it  or  an  English  dress- 


HOW  ONE   FIRE  LIT  ANOTHER.  97 

coat;  whether  it's  dyed  with  woad  or  wrapped  in  seal- 
skin." 

"  Well,  judging  him  by  myself,"  laughed  Trevelyan,  "  I 
should  say  he  saw  plenty  of  life,  and  got  rather  sick  of 
what  he  did  see;  that  he  was  very  much  like  Roche- 
foucauld, and,  judging  in  courts  and  camps,  love  and 
war,  found  a  good  deal  to  satirise,  and  very  little  to 
respect;  few  actions  to  hear  scrutiny,  and  no  motives 
unmixed;  and,  like  a  sensible  fellow,  did  not  let  his 
knowledge  of  the  trick  of  the  kaleidoscoj^e  spoil  his  pleas- 
ure in  its  pictures,  but  knowing  how  to  manage  the  little 
bits  of  glass  and  burnt  cork  that  others  took  for  jewels, 
shook  them  up  for  his  own  amusement,  and  smiled  at  the 
way  he  bamboozled  them." 

"You  are  keen-sighted,"  said  Florestine,  looking  earn- 
estly at  him.  "  I  am  glad  of  that,  for  I  would  rather  be 
judged  by  Machiavelli  than  Moses  Primrose;  the  pro- 
found reader  of  character  knows  the  true  from  the 
affected,  as  an  analytical  chemist  can  tell  you  real  ore  at 
a  glance.  But  I  am  not  sure  but  what  you  are  too 
skeptical." 

"Too  skeptical?  I  don't  think  that  is  possible;  as 
Emerson  says;  '"Who  shall  forbid  a  wise  skepticism,  see- 
ing that  on  no  subject  can  anything  like  even  an  approx- 
imate solution  be  formed  ?'  " 

"On  no  subject;  very  true.  All  subjects  are  open  to 
discussion,  and  the  belief  of  one  man  is  as  worthy  a 
hearing  as  another's.  There  is  nothing  so  likely  to  bring 
Truth  out  of  her  well  as  to  hear  above  ground  the  strug- 
gle of  the  gladiators  in  the  arena  of  argument.  But 
there  is  such  a  thing  as  being  too  skeptical  in  your 
judgment  of  people,  both  for  your  own  peace  and  their 
deseit." 

"L'on  triche  et  Ton  est  triche/5  smiled  Trevelyan. 

5 


98  HOW   ONE   FIRE  LIT  ANOTHER. 

"  In  a  world  where,  from  the  popular  preacher  who 
makes  a  clap-trap  of  his  morality,  to  the  beggar  who 
smears  himself  with  mercurial  ointment  to  excite  com- 
passion— from  the  cabinet  minister  who  prates  of  "  The 
People  "  and  only  manoeuvres  for  his  party,  to  the  Lon- 
don tradesmen  who  pay  those  employes  the  highest  who 
cheat  with  the  best  sleight  of  hand — trickery  goes  on 
wheel  within  wheel  from  morning  to  night.  I  think  the 
best  way  to  get  peace  for  oneself  is  to  grow  so  used  to 
the  chicory  that  one  doesn't  relish  pure  coffee;  and  the 
greatest  right  one  can  accord  to  one's  neighbor  is  to  let 
him  cheat  on  unmolested." 

"  But  you  do  not  join  him  in  doing  it  ?" 

"  Perhaps  my  talent  does  not  lie  that  way,  else  I  might 
be  tempted.  If  I  had  had  the  tact  to  chime  in  with 
falsehoods,  to  flatter  folly,  to  agree  where  I  disagreed,  to 
say  '  Quite  right,  my  dear  sir,'  to  old  Hahneman's  theory 
of  physic,  and  sigh,  '  Quite  true,  my  dear  madam,'  at  my 
patient's  Dorcas  meetings,  go  with  the  tide,  and  oil  my 
tongue,  and  suppress  my  opinions,  I  might  now  be  in 
Saville  Sjw  miking  my  23,33/.  a  year,  driving  my  broug- 
ham, and  drinking  my  claret " 

"  I  would  rather — I  would  ten  times  rather,"  burst  in 
Florestine,  vehemently,  "  make  SOU/.,  take  a  hansom 
occasionally,  drink  A.  K.,  and  speak  the  truth." 

"I  have  thought  so,"  smiled  Trevelyan;  "or,  at  least, 
as  I  say,  my  talent  didn't  lie  the  o~her  way." 

She  looked  up  in  his  face  and  laughed.  "You  are 
steel,  than  why  will  you  not  allow  anybody  else  to  be  so?" 

"Perhaps  I  may;  if  I  fight  some  time  with  them  and 
they  don't  break." 

Florestine  shook  her  head  impatiently. 

"Who  would  feel  complimented  by  that?  You  should 
know  a  good  sword  when  you  look  at  one." 


HOW   ONE   FIRE   LIT  ANOTHER.  99 

"  No,"  persisted  Trevelyan,  "  because  I  might  be  mis- 
led by  a  little  gilt  chasing  on  it,  and  find  it  as  brittle  as 
glass;  bnt  if  I  bend  it  across  my  knee,  there  can't  be  a 
mistake." 

"  If  you  put  it  to  such  a  test,  you  deserve  to  have  it 
fly  out  of  your  hands." 

"  But  if  it  were  a  good  one,  it  would  come  back  again, 
as  Excalibur  rose  from  the  water." 

"  But  Excalibur  sank  at  last,  monsieur." 

"  Florestine  !"  said  Mr.  Luard,  "  you  are  talking  Mr. 
Trevelyan  deaf.  Make  me  some  more  sherbet,  please. 
Nice  inventions,  those  gazogenes,  are  they  not,  Mr. 
Temple  ?" 

They  might  be  nice  inventions;  but  I  dare  say  Roys- 
ton  wished  gazogene  and  all  the  old  gentleman  alike  at 
the  devil. 


m. 

OUR   LITTLE    QUEEN   FORMS    HER   HOUSEHOLD. 

"I  say,  Royston,"  said  Pop  the  next  morning,  "you 
say  they're  going  to  Martigny  to-day — why  shouldn't  we 
go  too  ?     I'm  sick  to  death  of  this  place — eh  ?" 

The  arrangement  seemed  not  such  a  bad  one  as  were 
most  offsprings  of  Pop's  brain,  and  go  to  Martigny  we 
did.  As  the  Luards'  caleche  set  off  we  followed  on  our 
mules,  and  introduced  Lascelles  and  Oakes  to  Miss  Flo- 
restine and  her  father,  who,  loving  society,  rejoiced  in 
the  rencontre,  and  possibly  having  an  eye  to  business, 
thought  it  not  a  bad  thing  to  join  in  with  five  men,  one 
of  whom  had  a  prospective  coronet.     A  queer  httle  fig- 


100  HOW   ONE   FIRE  LIT  ANOTHER. 

ure  the  prospective  coronet  looked,  perched  on  the  ex- 
treme end  of  his  mule,  after  the  habit  of  ccstermongers, 
and  habited  in  a  little  monkey-jacket  and  straw  hat, 
with  his  calcined  whiskers  under  it;  and  I  could  not  won- 
der Florestine  found  Royston,  who  went  round  the  ledge3 
to  get  her  flowers  as  if  he  were  a  guide  born,  and  would 
have  looked  high-bred  if  you  had  dressed  him  like  a 
peasant,  the  more  attractive  of  the  two.  We  had  a  pleas- 
ant journey  into  Martigny  that  day — so  pleasant,  that 
when  we  were  all  sitting  under  the  trees  among  the 
roses  at  the  Hotel  de  la  Tour  (with,  by  the  way,  the 
only  nice-looking  young  woman  I  had  seen  about  here 
waiting  on  us,)  we  agreed,  over  our  strawberries  and 
cream,  Luard  proposing,  and  Pop  violently  seconding, 
that  we  should  all  go  on  together  to  Interlachen,  doing 
the  thing  leisurely,  anybody  free  to  desert  the  company 
and  go  off  by  himself  whenever  he  chose. 

"  Then  I  am  the  queen  of  the  party,"  cried  Florestine. 
"  I  shall  expect  you  all  to  do  exactly  what  I  tell  you.  Let 
me  see.  Papa  shall  be  commissary-general  and  caterer 
for  the  forces,  and  Mr.  Temple  shall  be  photographer  to 
her  majesty,  but  bound  over  not  to  take  her,  as  all  his 
likenesses  look  very  much  like  wooden  dolls  staring 
fiercely  through  a  cloud  of  brown  smoke." 

"  And  what  am  I?"  cried  Pop. 

"Master  of  the  horse — I  mean  the  mules;  and  woe  be 
to  you  if  mine  does  not  go  well." 

"And  I?"  asked  Oakes. 

"Artist  and  cornet -play  er ;  bound  to  give  all  your 
sketches  to  the  queen,  and  to  play  on  Lake  Leman  when- 
ever we  come  to  it." 

"Don't  make  me  anything,  Miss  Luard,  but  your 
equerry  in  waiting,"  said.  Lascelles.  "  I'd  die  to  serve 
you,  but  I  won't  stir  a  step  for  anybody  else." 


HOW   ONE   FIRE   LIT  ANOTHER.  101 

"You  shall  have  nothing  at  all  to  do,  Mr.  Lascelles," 
rejoined  Florestine;  "for  you  take  so  much  care  of  your- 
self that  I  am  sure  you  have  no  time  to  spare." 

"  And  what's  Royston  to  be  ?"  said  I,  when  the  laugh 
at  Lascelles's  expense,  in  which  he,  like  a  wise  man, 
joined,  was  over. 

"  Perhaps  he  doesn't  care  to  join  the  household  ?"  she 
said,  with  a  quick  glance  at  him. 

He  smiled  at  the  pique  of  her  tone. 

"  I  think  I  had  better  be  guide  in  general,  if  Miss 
Luard  is  not  to  kill  herself  down  a  crevasse,  as  she  was 
nearly  doing  the  other  morning." 

"  Well !  I  wanted  to  see  what  was  below — woman's 
curiosity,  you  know.  You  shall  be  guide,  and  you  shall 
be  prime  minister,  too,  and  naturalist,  and  conversation- 
alist, and " 

"Stop,  stop!"  cried  Trevelyan.  "You'll  give  me  too 
much  to  do.  I've  heard  that  queens  are  apt  to  grow 
exigeantes." 

"Shall  we  all  take  a  vow,"  began  Lascelles,  "like  the 
Hungarian  '  Moriamur  pro  rege  nostro  ?'  " 

"'Rege'  is  king,  and  'regina'  is  queen.  Come,  I 
know  Latin  better  than  that,"  said  poor  little  Pop. 

"If  you  know  Latin  so  well,  it's  a  pity  you  don't  know 
history  better,"  sneered  Lascelles. 

"If  Pop's  neglected  his  head,  he's  cultivated  his  heart, 
any  way;  you've  done  just  the  reverse,  Lascelles,"  said 
Pioyston,  sharply.  "I  dare  say  the  Chamounists  gave 
him  the  preference  when  he  was  singeing  his  whiskers  to 
help  them,  and  you  were  (very  philosophically,  I  admit) 
looking  on,  with  your  cigar  in  your  mouth." 

"Heart!  my  dear  fellow,"  fawned  Lascelles;  "didn't 
know  you  went  in  for  that  line — thought  you  called  it  all 
bosh." 


102  HOW   ONE   FIRE  LIT   ANOTHER. 

"  I  call  the  pretence  of  it  bosh,  as  I  call  the  assumption 
of  superiority  conceit." 

Lascelles  gave  him  a  glance  with  his  eyes  as  if  he 
would  have  liked  to  pay  him  for  it;  but  it  was  not  very 
easy  to  shut  Royston  up,  either  by  words  or  blows — he 
was  too  good  a  holder  of  the  belt  in  both  matches. 

Those  were  jolly  days  we  spent  touring  about  there. 
Royston  and  I  had  enjoyed  ourselves  when  we  had  done 
the  "grand"  some  dozen  years  before,  during  the 
"Long;"  but,  on  my  life,  I  think  we  enjoyed  this  a  good 
deal  more,  especially  as  we  sent  Murray  to  the  deuce,  and 
loitered  en  route  as  we  chose.  Luard  was  a  capital  com- 
panion, a  boa  viveur,  full  of  laughable  stories,  and  our 
Queen  ruled  her  subjects  so  merrily,  was  so  lenient  to 
tobacco,  and  so  full  of  fun,  that  she  might  have  been  a 
young  Cantab  or  cornet  for  any  young-ladyish  trouble  that 
she  caused  lis.  She  was  clever,  witty,  and  always  a  lady 
(I  cannot  endure  your  brusque  women  who  talk  slang, 
and  fancy  a  bad  imitation  of  us  the  likeliest  way  to  at- 
tract us,)  graceful  and  kittenish  to  those  she  liked, 
haughty  and  satirical  on  occasion  to  those  she  did  not. 
Pop  went  mad  about  her — a  regular  case  of  raving  mad- 
ness, after  two  days — to  Royston's  infinite  amusement. 
Lascelles  flattered  her  softly  (when  he  was  not  cut  short,) 
and  ceased  speaking  sneeringly  of  her  behind  her  back. 
Oakes  only  resisted  her  because  her  hair  was  not  the 
correct  pre-Raphaelite  red  hue;  and  Trevelyan  laughed 
at  and  with  her,  went  after  her  constantly,  took  care  of 
her,  argued  wi+h  her,  took  her  to  task,  just  as  he  pleased, 
and  as  nobody  else  did,  or,  perhaps,  would  have  been 
allowed  to  do.  Yes,  we  spent  jolly  days,  going  through 
the  snow  up  to  Mont  St.  Bernard,  where  Florestine 
played  on  the  Augustine's  piano,  and  left  the  unlucky 
young  fellow  all  the  drearier  for  his  glimpse  of  her;  row- 


HOW   ONE  FIRE   LIT  ANOTHER.  103 

ing  along  Lake  Leman  in  romantic  style  enough,  while 
Trevelyau  pulled  as  became  a  man  who  had  been  stroke 
of  the  Cambridge  Eight,  and  Oakes  played  his  cornet,  and 
Pop  imperilled  all  our  lives  by  balancing  over  to  gather 
lilies  oft'  the  castle  walls  of  Chillon  as  we  pixlled  under 
them;  turning  out  to  see  the  sunrise  on  the  Kighi,  in 
company  with  other  deluded  victims  to  that  confounded 
Alpine  horn,  where,  I  confess,  I  forgot  to  look  at  the 
sun,  I  was  so  occupied  in  noticing  the  variety  of  toilettes 
exhibited  by  those  sleepy,  shivering,  grumbling,  night- 
capped  English  ladies,  and  wishing  that  the  sun  was  up 
and  I  could  photograph  them  there  and  then.  Yes,  they 
were  jolly  days,  though  they  seemed  uncommonly  pas- 
toral and  innocent  after  our  usual  garcon  life;  but  per- 
haps we  enjoyed  them  all  the  more  for  the  contrast,  and 
I  know  none  of  us  seemed  in  a  hurry  to  break  up~  the 
party  first  begun  at  the  Chamounix  fire. 

By  gentle  degrees  we  got  up  into  the  Oberland,  and 
stopped  at  Interlachen — dear  Interlachen,  with  its  grey 
ruins  and  its  walnut-trees.  Whether  it  was  that  I  read 
"Hyperion  "  there  when  I  was  in  much  the  same  state. as 
Paul  Fleming  (by  the  way,  my  Mary  Ashburton  married 
a  horrid  creature  on  'Change,  worth  no  end;  I  called  on 
her  the  other  day,  and  congratulated  myself,  for  she 
must  certainly  weigh  ten  stone,  and  is  grown  decidedly 
vulgar),  whether  that  really  beautiful  story  has  got  in- 
separably mixed  up  in  my  mind  with  Interlachen,  or  why, 
I  do  not  know,  but  I  am  fond  of  Interlachen,  very  fond 
of  it,  and  sedulously  did  I  photograph  it,  with  a  zeal 
worthy  a  better  cause,  till  I  had  every  nook  and  corner 
of  it  down  in  negatives  and  positives,  and  the  amount  of 
collodion  spent  on  it  was  enough  to  fill  the  Lake  of  Thun. 

"  Don't  show  them  to  me;  they  are  nothing  but  nature 
smoke-dried,"  said  Florestine  one  morning  when  we  were 


104  HOW  ONE   FIEE    LIT   ANOTHER. 

sitting  on  the  turf  near  the  Staubbach,  and  I  had  man- 
aged to  catch  the  Unspunnen  beautifully — most  beauti- 
fully, I  protest. 

"  Nature  done  brown,  in  fact,"  added  Trevelyan,  who 
was  lying  on  the  grass  reading  the  "Meditations  "  to  her. 
"Look  at  your  wristbands,  Temple.  Well,  for  a  dirty 
occupation,  commend  to  amateur  photographing;  it  beats 
chimney-sweeping  hollow,  and  brickinaking  is  cleanliness 
itself  to  it." 

"  Well,  see  if  I  don't  photograph  something  you'd  give 
all  you  possess  to  have,"  said  I. 

"  I'll  bet  you  a  guinea  you  never  take  any  sketch  that 
I  wouldn't  throw  into  the  Aar,"  replied  Royston,  with  a 
contemptuous  kick  at  my  entire  apparatus.  . 

"  Done  !     Look  out  for  your  money." 

That  day,  after  we  had  driven  back  to  our  hotel,  I 
spied  Florestine  standing  under  the  walnut-trees  feeding 
a  magpie  she  had  found  to  patronise,  holding  her  hat  in 
her  hand,  and  with  her  head  half  turned  to  speak  to 
Trevelyan  and  her  father,  who  were  smoking  in  the  gar- 
den. In  a  second  my  stand  was  up,  my  camera  fixed. 
She  stood  still  in  the  same  position.  Down  went  the 
slide,  and  Florestine  was  photographed.  I  crept  away  as 
quietly  as  a  thief,  carried  my  proof  to  my  own  room,  put 
it  through  all  the  varied  phases  of  a  photograph's  exis- 
tence, stippled  them  with  great  care,  and  after  three  or 
four  days'  secret  work,  was  rewarded  by  the  possession 
of  a  couple  of  colored  photographs  that  Pop  would  have 
sold  his  title  for,  Oakes  given  his  best  engraving  of  the 
Huguenot,  and  supercilious  Lascelles  warmed  into  grat- 
itude to  obtain,  and  which  I  do  not  think  Trevelyan, 
though  he  did  despise  the  art,  whouldhave  thrown  with- 
out a  look  into  the  Aar. 

"What  are  you  reading  there,  Pop?"  said  Trevelyan 


HOW   ONE  FIKE  LIT  ANOTHER.  105 

one  morning,  finding  the  boy  lying  on  the  grass  poring 
over  a  book  whose  perusal  seemed  to  heat  him  more  than 
a  match  with  the  Lord's  men  or  the  Harrow  Eleven. 

"  '  Hyperion,'  "  groaned  poor  Pop.  "  I'll  be  shot  if  I 
can  make  rhyme  or  reason  of  it;  but  she  liked  it,  and  so 
I  thought " 

"  She  !  Who?  Give  people  their  proper  names,"  said 
Royston,  rather  sharply. 

"  Florestine — Miss  Luard.  By  George !  Trevelyan," 
cried  Pop,  springing  to  his  feet,  with  his  honest,  ugly 
little  face  glowing  crimson,  "I  tell  you  what:  I  coidd  die 
for  that  girl  I" 

"  Die  ?  Pooh !"  said  Trevelyan,  in  his  sarcastic,  dry 
tone — a  tone  he  seldom  used  to  Pop — "  sensible  men 
don't  do  those  things,  though  sometimes,  I  dare  say,  dy- 
ing for  a  woman  would  be  a  lesser  evil  than  living  with 
her." 

"  But,  .,by  George  !  I  would,"  went  on  Pop,  vehemently. 

•  "  I  don't  know  how  it  is,  but  I'd  do  anything  for  her.     I 

feel  as  if  she  were  some  star  right  above  me  that  I  could 

never  help  looking  at.    I  vow,  if  her  dress  sweeps  against 

me,  I  feel  happier  than " 

"For  Heaven's  sake,  don't  talk  such  folly,"  broke  in 
Trevelyan,  impatiently.  "  You  were  just  as  bad  about 
that  flaunting,  flirting,  Mitchell  girl  at  Baden,  and  little 
Babette  in  the  Palais  Royal,  and  that  hideous  confec- 
tioner woman  at  Windsor.  I  can't  say  I  think  Miss 
Luard  would  much  like  being  classed  with  them,  nor  do 
I  consider  that  you  have  any  right  to " 

"  But,  Trevebyan,"  persisted  Pop,  "  wait  a  bit.  I  can't 
help  it.  I  would  if  I  could,  Heaven  knows,  for  I'm  the 
most  miserable  dog  going,  and  I'd  throw  myself  into  that 
river  with  the  greatest  pleasure  in  life.  I  don't  class  her 
with  them,  I  tell  you.     I  worship  her,  I  adniire  her,  just 

5* 


106  HOW   ONE  EIRE  LIT   ANOTHER. 

as  those  old  chaps  (the  Greeks,  wasn't  it  ?)  worshipped 
the  sun.  I  tell  you,  if  she  only  looks  at  me  I  feel  in 
heaven;  and  yet  when  I'm  with  her  I  feel  such  a  con- 
founded fool.  She's  so  clever,  you  know,  and  all  that,  and 
I  can't  keep  up  with  her  as  you  can;  but,  by  Jove " 

"  My  dear  Pop,"  said  Trevelyan,  his  haughty,  delicate 
lips  curling  contemptuously,  "  if  you  want  to  keep  up 
with  her,  as  you  term  it,  you  must  accustom  yourself  to 
more  elegant  language.  A  high-bred  lady  doesn't  ad- 
mire being  raved  about  by  a  raw  boy  in  the  terms  he 
uses  to  a  grisette  or  a  fleuriste." 

"An  honest  love's  no  insult  to  any  woman,"  rejoined  Pop, 
hotly.  "I  know  she's  miles  above  me,  and  I  wouldn't  an- 
noy her  or  offend  her  for  a  kingdom,  but  I'd  slave  all  my 
life  if  I  thought  I  could  make  her  like  me;  and  I'm  sure 
she'd  grace  the  confounded  title  that  the  governor's 
always  kicking  up  such  a  dust  about  better  than  any 
girl  in  the  peerage." 

Trevelyan's  eyes  flashed  more  scornful  fire  than  was 
needful. 

"  Tell  her  so." 

Pojd  winced  under  the  tone. 

"Oh,  by  George!  I  daren't  though;  and,  besides, 
there's  that  stuck-up  fellow  Lascelles  hanging  after  her, 
and  he  makes  such  game  of  one  that  I'm  as  chicken- 
hearted  as  a  girl.  But,  I  say,  Trevelyan,  don't  you  think 
she'd  make  a  delicious  little  Countess  if  she  only 
would " 

But  Trevelyan  had  walked  away,  and  was  smoking 
some  ten  paces  off;  so  Pop  repressed  his  confidences, 
and  returned  to  perplex  himself  with  the  story  of  the 
Fountain  of  Oblivion,  which  was,  somehow,  entangled 
in  his  mind  with  those  luckless  butts  for  wit,  les  eaux  in 
Trafalgar  Square. 


HOW   ONE   FIRE  LIT  ANOTHER.  107 

That  same  story  Trevelyan  read  one  very  rainy  after- 
noon to  Florestine  while  she  finished  up  some  sketches, 
and  her  father  slept  over  a  volume  of  Le  Brim,  and  little 
Poj)  sat  in  the  shadow  making  flies,  but  gazing  furtively 
at  the  mischievous  queen  of  our  household. 

"I  love  '  Hyperion,  '  "  said  she,  as  he  closed  the  book; 
"  it  is  so  true  to  life." 

"  In  making  Mary  Ashburton  do  all  the  damage  she 
could,  and  never  be  sorry  for  it  ?"  said  Koyston.  "  Yes, 
I  agree  with  you,  that  is  very  true  to  life — woman  life,  at 
least." 

"No,  you  skeptic,  I  did  not  mean  that;  I  meant  in 
touching  the  chords  of  human  nature  which  are  unheard 
in  the  bustle  of  life,  as  the  sweet  tenor  note  is  apt  to  be 
lost  in  the  din  and  crash  of  an  oratorio." 

"  A  very  pretty  simile,  but  I  am  afraid  you  will  find 
that  the  notes  most  people  like  best  to  play  are  a  fan- 
faronade on  their  own  merits,  and  all  the  sonates  pathtti- 
ques  and  tender  love- songs  are  done  on  a  selfish  princi- 
ple, as  the  poor  French  hussar  plays  his  horn  at  the 
Lurley  echo  to  bring  him  so  many  sous.  The  horn  and 
the  echo  sound  very  poetic,  I  dare  say,  to  young  ladies, 
but  they  have  a  prosaic  side  to  them,  and  if  you  give  no 
money  you  get  no  music.  In  the  same  way  men  trot  out 
their  feelings,  and  loves,  and  sorrows,  to  draw  admiration 
or  excite  a  lucrative  pity,  as  a  clergyman,  if  he  lose  his 
wife,  gets  up  in  his  pixlpit  with  a  new  cambric  handker- 
chief, and  weeps  over  his  text  to  make  the  ladies  vote 
him  an  angel,  and  agree  his  departed  wasn't  half  worthy 
of  him." 

"  You  make  me  laugh,  but  you  make  me  angry,"  said 
Florestine,  playing  an  impatient  tattoo  on  her  palate. 
"  When  you  talk  in  that  way,  who  would  think  you  the 
snme    man  who   related   with  so   much   enthusiasm   at 


108  HOW   0:s~E  FTRE   LIT   ANOTHER. 

Vevay,  the  other  clay,  poor  Bonnevard's  heroic  '  El 
Geneve  ?'  " 

"Well,  I've  a  liking  for  Bonnevard,"  smiled  Trevelyan: 
"but  that  comes  from  reading  Byron  when  I  was  a  boy, 
and  as  for  his  El  Geneve,  I  can't  tell  whether  that  wasn't 
a  bit  of  clap-trap  or  a  make-up  of  the  Swiss." 

"  Tou  are  incorrigible.  Pray,  why  did  you  save  my 
life  at  Chamounix — from  selfishness  ?" 

"Yes,  First,  because  I  wanted  some  exertion;  sec- 
ondly, because  I  should  have  been  badly  handled  in  Eng- 
land if  I  had  let  a  woman  die  unaided;  thirdly,  because 
I  knew  I  should  buy  a  reputation  for  chivalry  very 
cheap." 

She  laughed;  but  she  was  half  excited.  ""What  have 
you  had  to  annoy  you  ?  Your  sauce  piquante  has  more 
amari  aliquid  than  general,  to-day." 

"Nothing.  "What  should  make  you  fancy  so?  I  am 
not  a  disappointed,  soured  man,  swearing  at  society  that 
has  not  appreciated  him;  au  contraire,  people  are  ordi- 
narily very  well  bred  to  my  face,  whatever  they  may  say 
behind  my  back;  I  have  done  what  I  liked  all  my  life 
long,  and  if  my  position  is  not  secured  now,  it  is  my  own 
fault  for  preferring  liberty  and  nothing  a  year  to  hard 
practice  and  a  thousand  or  two;  but  if  you  expect  me  to 
see  miracles  of  deep  feeling  and  self-abnegation  in  the 
people  I  meet  about  in  the  world,  I  have  been  too  much 
in  its  highways  and  byways,  and  seen  too  long  behind  its 
scenes,  to  be  able  to  oblige  you.  I  have  seen  too  many 
of  the  strings  of  the  marionettes  to  believe  in  their  little 
farces  and  melodramas.  A  medical  man  is  let  perforce 
behind  the  scenes  where  another  profession  never  pene- 
trates. "When  death  stalks  in,  truth  sneaks  out,  though 
I  have  seen  woman  paint,  and  act,  and  attitudinise  to 
their  graves." 


HOW   ONE   FIRE  LIT  ANOTHER.  109 

"  No  doubt,"  answered  Florestine.  "  I  do  not  wonder 
at  your  skepticism ;  it  is  an  armor  which  the  world 
buckles  on  in  time,  alike  to  Launcelot  and  Britomart,  if 
they  go  where  the  battle  rages.  You  have  been  taught 
it;  'sohe  fides  sufficit'  does  for  boys  who  know  nothing 
of  life,  and  there  is  hardly  enough  worthy  of  faith  to 
make  it  possible  to  keep  the  commodity  long.  Only, 
since  you  see  so  much  false  coin,  I  think  you  should  be 
able  to  know  the  real." 

"  How  ?  The  false  coin  is  equally  milled  at  the  edges 
and  by  the  self-same  die  ?  I  have  been  both  at  the  mint 
and  the  coining-shops,  and  there  is  no  exterior  difference 
between  the  two.  I  have  seen  girls  of  fifteen  playing  the 
roles  of  the  most  thorough-paced  intrigantes;  I  have 
seen  gentle,  merry  little  kittens,  with  the  avarice  and 
cunning  of  a  Harpagon;  and  meek,  yea-nay,  devotes 
women,  as  thoroughly  bad  under  the  rose  as  the  worst 
Lais  or  Leda.  I  have  seen  invalids  in  their  death-hour 
revive  to  put  on  their  rouge;  I  have  seen  tigers'  claws 
under  patter,  de  velours;  and  wives  (ladies,  mind  you) 
pawning  then-  husbands'  diamond  studs  to  buy  some  new 
finery  of  their  own.  There  is  as  -much  acting  and  as 
much  corruption  in  respectable  private  houses  (in  an- 
other way)  as  in  the  poor  scapegoats  of  coulisses,  gin- 
guettes,  and  Quartiers  Breda.  While  we're  alive  they  get 
what  they  can  out  of  us,  and  when  we're  deal,  wives  and 
sisters  begin  to  wonder  whether  crape  is  becoming,  how 
many  flounces  are  necessary,  perplex  themselves  over  the 
design  of  the  mourning  brooch,  so  as  to  turn  the  casualty 
to  account,  and  read  over  that  delightful  advertisement 
we  laughed  at  the  other  day:  '  Daring  seasons  of  bereave- 
ment, when  the  mind  is  least  fitted  to  attend  to  the  cares 
of  dress,  which  are  nevertheless  of  paramount  importance 
in  a  social  point  of  view,  it  is  desirable  to  know  that  at 


110  HOW   ONE  FIRE  LIT  ANOTHER. 

Messrs.  Sables'  establishment  mourning  of  every  kind  is 
kept,  and  may  be  had  ready-made  with  the  greatest  pos- 
sible expedition  for  widows  and  families.'  That  is  beau- 
tiful, I  think;  and  yet  you  ask  me  to  see  in  these  people 
living  models  of  sincerity,  fidelity,  candor,  and  devo- 
tion !" 

"Not  in  those  people,"  said  Florestine,  pettishly;  "but 
I  expect  of  you,  as  a  keen-sighted  man  of  the  world,  to 
be  able  to  distinguish  enthusiasm  from  effervescence, 
real  feeling  from  sentiment,  candor  from  forwardness, 
and  truth  from  falsehood;  and  I  do  think  that  you 
would  be  equally  blind  and  heartless  if  you  set  your  heel 
on  and  crush  the  true  diamonds  with  the  same  merciless 
carelessness  as  you  have  always  tranrpled  down  the  tinsel 
and  the  paste." 

Trevelyan  smiled;  then  got  up,  and  said  he  must  smoke 
a  pipe  out  of  doors  and  consider  her  arguments. 

He  remembered  it  wasn't  the  wisest  thing  in  the  world 
for  a  man  of  thirty-four  to  risk  imbibing  the  folly  of  a 
boy  of  eighteen.  Florestine  was  certainly  a  dear  little 
thing,  but  it  had  long  *been  his  maxim  that  no  man 
should  make  love  on  less  than  two  thousand  a  year.  So 
Eoyston  lit  his  pipe,  and  went  out  for  a  walk  by  himself. 


IV. 

MT   PHOTOGRAPHS    RAISE   A   WHIRLWIND. 

* 

Florestine — Regina,  as  she  called  herself — was  sitting 
under  the  walnut-trees  in  one  of  the  green  meadows  by 
the  Aar,  sketching,  with  her  court  round  her  smoking, 
chatting,  and  laughing,  vying  with  each  other  to  amuse 


HOW  ONE   FIRE  LIT  ANOTHER.  Ill 

her,  except  Trevelyan,  who  amused  her  always  without 
effort,  as  he  did  everybody  whom  he  talked  to  with  that 
sweet  silvery  voice  of  his,  when  my  unlucky  photographs 
came  on  the  tapis  again. 

"Well,  old  fellow,"  said  Trevelyan,  "when  am  I  to  pay 
you  my  guinea?  When  I  do,  I'd  certainly  advise  you  to 
lay  it  out  in  shirts,  for  the  quantity  of  linen  you  iron- 
mould  must  have  cost  a  small  fortune." 

"  Thank  you.  I've  been  trying  a  new  line  lately.  Would 
you  like  to  see  it  ?" 

"  Decidedly,  if  you'll  have  the  kindness  to  write  under 
each,  as  children  do,  '  This  is  a  bouse,'  '  This  is  a  tree,' 
that  we  may  be  sure  to  use  the  right  words  of  admira- 
tion." 

"Let  her  majesty  be  merciful,  then,"  said  I,  as  I  knelt 
on  one  knee,  and  offered  the  young  lady  her  own  like- 
nesses. 

"Oh!  Mr.  Temple,  what  a  shame!"  cried  Florestine. 
"You  are  guilty  of  lese-majeste,  of  high  treason  of  the 
blackest  dye !  When  I  bound  you  over  never  to  take  a 
portrait  of  me,  to  go  and  do  it  slyly  like  this !  There  is 
no  punishment  too  great  for  you.  I  see  you  have  not  left 
me  the  usual  hideous  brown,  and  am  bound  to  confess 
you  have  finished  them  as  nicely  as  Mayall  could  ;  but 
for  all  that  it  is  unpardonable,  isn't  it  papa,  when  I  al- 
ways solemnly  vowed  never  to  be  photographed  ?" 

"Your  majesty  must  forgive  me.  You  heard  my  bet 
laid  on  the  subject." 

Florestine  colored,  and  Ro3^ston  gave  me  an  admonito> 
ry  kick,  and  studied  the  portrait  silently.  Two  pretty 
pictures  they  were,  the  image  of  our  little  queen,  and,  for 
the  first  time  in  our  tour,  my  camera  got  praised  for  its 
work.  Mr.  Luard  was  pleased  with  them;  Pop  gazed  in 
an  ecstasy;  Lascelles  looked  approvingly  through  his  eye- 


H2  HOW   ONE  IIEE   LIT  ANOTHER. 

glass;  and  Oakes  admired  them  as  much  as  ever  he  did 
one  of  Millais's  red-haired,  large-limbed,  hideous,  impos- 
sible women.  And  Trevelyan — well,  Trevelyan  said  noth- 
ing, but  when  he  found  himself  alone  with  Florestine, 
standing  by  the  open  window  in  the  soft,  warm  twilight, 
with  nobody  to  notice  him  but  the  stars  coming  out  over 
the  pure  white  Jungfrau  and  her  knights,  the  Eiger  and 
Silver  Horn,  keeping  guard  over  her  in  their  glistening 
armor  of  ice,  Trevelyan  bent  down  over  her,  and  said — 
very  softly,  too — 

"  Popham  and  LasceMes  asked  in  vain.  Shall  I,  too,  be 
refused  if  I  humbly  beg  for  one  of  those  photographs  of 
our  queen  ?" 

"  Will  you  care  for  it  ?"  began  Florestine,  with  eager 
joy.  Then  stopped  with  a  flush  on  her  cheeks,  and  put 
one  of  them  into  his  hand  in  silence. 

He  slipped  it  into  the  breast  of  his  waistcoat  with  a 
simple  "thank  you."  He  did  not  trust  himself  to  say 
more,  for  his  heart  beat  quick  at  the  touch  of  her  hand, 
and  he  felt  Pop's  madness  fastening  on  him. 

"  Pop  is  fond  of  talking  of  dying  for  you,"  he  said,  at 
last.  "  I  fancy  you  would  value  more  a  man  who  did  not 
sentimentalise  upon  it,  but  lived  for  you  resolutely  and 
entirely.  Tell  me  which  you  would  prefer:  every  day 
liking  the  '  love '  of  the  world,  with  money  and  servants 
at  your  command,  titles  and  estates  in  plenty,  a  luxuri- 
ous life,  and  a  high  position,  or  a  passion  of  which  you 
would  know  yourself  the  last  and  sole  object,  a  hand 
and  a  head  that  might  never  get  you  riches,  though  they 
would  work  untiringly  for  you,  an  intellectual  but  not  a 
wealthy  life.     Which  would  you  choose  ?" 

"  Oh,  why  do  you  ask  ?  The  one  would  distract  me, 
millions  could  not  make  up  for  the  curse  of  a  cold  love; 
the  other  would  be  my  ideal,  my  glory.     The  first  would 


HOW   ONE   FIRE   LIT  ANOTHER.  113 

stifle  me  under  its  wearisome  grandeur;  the  last,  come 
what  deprivation,  or  effort  or  toil  there  might,  would  be 
the  heaven  of  my  dreams,  and  so  loved,  so  allowed  to 
share  alike  difficulty  and  joy,  I  could  ask  no  higher  desti- 

She  spoke  impassione  lly  and  earnestly,  the  moonlight 
showing  him  her  flushed  face  and  quivering  lips.  Tre- 
velyan's  pulse  beat  quicker,  involuntarily  he  drew  nearer 
to  her,  not  master  of  himself.  What  little  things  make 
or  mar  our  fate's !  At  that  minute  Luard,  walking  outside, 
came  up  to  the  window. 

"  Trevelyan,  what  was  the  price  of  that  Venetian  meer- 
schaum of  yours  ?" 

"My  guinea,  please,  old  fellow,"  said  I,  as  Trevel- 
yan walked  up  and  down,  having  a  last  smoke,  "  unless 
you  go  and  ask  for  one  of  my  photographs,  and  let  me 
see  you  throw  it  into  the  Aar." 

He  lpoked  as  sharp  as  if  I  knew  one  of  the  identical 
pictures  was  then  buttoned  under  his  waistcoat — which, 
of  course  I  did  not  at  the  time — and  tossed  me  my  bet 
in  silence,  with  a  smile  of  pleasure  on  his  face,  neverthe- 
less. 

"  So,  our  household  breaks  up  the  day  after  to-mor- 
row," I  continued.     "  Doesn't  Luard  go  to  Brussels  ?" 

"  I  believe  so." 

"  And  I  suppose  you  go  on  the  original  route  up  to  Vi- 
enna— eh  ?" 

He  smoked  silently  for  a  minute  or  two. 

"What  do  you  think  of  going  on  with  them  a  little 
farther  ?  Pop  wants  to  lengthen  out  his  leave,  and  winter 
is  the  time  for  Vienna  and  the  bal  masques." 

"  Comme  vous  voudrez.  Queen  Florenstine  will  have 
no  objection,  I  dare  say,  to  keeping  her  court  round  her 
— by  the  way,  her  sceptre  must  have  some  spell  in  it  to 


Ill  HOW  ONE   FIRE    LIT  ANOTHER. 

keep  five  men  dawdling  away  ten  weeks  in  the  Oberland 
without  being  bored  to  death.  Don't  you  think  so  ?  But 
I  say,  Royston,  do  you  take  care  your  young  cub  don't 
compromise  himself.  Freshlacquers  wouldn't  much  ad- 
mire to  see  his  heir  apparent  go  home  married  and  done 
for,  would  he  ?" 

"  Do  you  suppose  she'd  be  likely  to  condescend  to  that 
raw  young  idiot  ?"  said  Trevelyan,  with  supreme  scorn. 

"  Can't  say.  Women,  according  to  your  doctrine, 
would  condescend  to  something  infinitely  worse  to  get  a 
title.  However,  I  dare  say  she  wouldn't  try  it  on,  there 
are  three  years  before  he  comes  of  age,  and  boys  never 
keep  in  the  same  mind  two  months  together.  Lascelles 
is  the  better  parti;  and  I  fancy,  for  all  his  supercilious- 
ness, he's  fairly  caught  this  time." 

A  smile  came  over  Royston's  face,  as  if  he  didn't  think 
either  Pop  or  Lascelles  stood  much  chance  to  win,  but 
he  cut  me  short  haughtily  enough. 

"  I  don't  see  that  either  you  or  I  have  any  possible 
right  to  discuss  other  people's  affairs.  I  think  ill  of  most 
women — I  have  had  cause — but  one  has  certainly  no 
business  to  decide  that  a  girl  in  whom  one  finds  neither 
artifice  nor  affectation  would  either  manoeuvre  for  a  coro- 
net, or  marry  for  marrying's  sake." 

"  Then  you  have  fought  with  your  sword,  and  found  it 
true  steel?" 

"  Perhaps  so,"  he  said  briefly,  as  he  turned  round  and 
resumed  his  walk.  "  I  tried  the  spoon-bait  in  the  river 
to-day,  but  the  trout  are  not  here  what  they  are  at  Ge- 
neva.    Hallo  !  What  the  deuce  is  the  matter  with  Pop  ?" 

The  cause  of  his  exclamation  was  walking  towards  us 
with  much  the  same  dogged  vehemence  as  a  bull  that 
means  mischief,  with  his  hat  pulled  over  his  eyes,  and  his 
pipe  stuck  in  his  teeth,  but  no  smoke  coming  out  of  its 


HOW  ONE  FIKE  LIT  ANOTHEE.  115 

bowl.     He  never  saw  us  till  Trevelyan  caught  him  by  the 
arm. 

"  Walking  for  a  wager,  Pop  ?" 

Pop  shook  him  off  savagely. 

"Let  me  alone,  can't  you?" 

"  No,"  said  Trevelyan,  quietly  slipping  his  arm  in  his; 
"not  till  you  tell  me  what's  the  cause  of  your  tramping 
about  here  all  alone  in  the  moonlight.  Solitude  isn't 
your  line  generally.     Ain't  you  well,  old  fellow  ?" 

"Well  enough,"  growled  Pop,  "but  the  biggest  fool 
that  ever  walked." 

"No  news,"  laughed  Trevelyan,  with  his  kind,  sunny 
smile.  "  What's  the  last  bit  of  folly,  my  boy  ?  Compro- 
mised yourself  with  the  landlady? — promised  to  marry 
that  pretty  little  Gretchen  ?— overdrawn  your  balance  at 
Berne — or  what  is  it  ?" 

"  Don't  make  game  of  me,"  broke  out  little  Pop,  fierce- 
ly. "I  won't  stand  it  I  tell  you.  I  may  be  a  raw  cub,  and 
can't  please  her  as  you  can,  but  I  can  feel  as  well  as  you, 
and  I'll  be  shot  if  I  stand  your  chaff.  I  knew  what  she'd 
say  to  me,  but  I  was  cursed  idiot  enough  to  go  and  tell 
her  I  couldn't  leave  her  without " 

Here  Pop  broke  down  and  bit  the  end  of  his  short  clay 
ferociously,  his  comical  little  face  very  pale  and  sad,  as 
he  pulled  his  hat  farther  down  over  his  eyes. 

Trevelyan's  own  eyes  grew  soft  and  veloutes  as  he 
looked  at  him.  The  man  of  strong  and  matured  passions 
knew  how  quickly  the  awkward  and  wayward  fancy  of  the 
boy  would  fade  away,  but  he  also  knew  by  remembrance 
that  it  would  not  die  without  struggle  and  pain,  however 
ephemeral  it  might  be.  He  put  his  arm  over  the  boy's 
shoulder  with  caressing  gentleness. 

"  Poor  fellow,  you  have  the  heart  of  a  gentleman,  Pop; 
some  day  a  woman  will  learn  to  value  it  aright." 


116  HOW   ONH  FIEE  LIT  ANOTHER. 

"Don't,  Trevelyan,  don't,"  stammered  Pop,  his  lips 
quivering.  "  I  shall  be  better  by-and-by,  but  it  cuts  hard 
just  at  present.  I  never  dreamt  she'd  listen  to  me,  an 
ignorant,  sheepish,  good-for-nothing  idiot  that  I  am,  but 
— but Oh  curse  it,  let  me  go !" 

He  wrenched  himself  away,  afraid  we  might  see  the 
emotion,  of  which,  in  his  incipient  manhood,  he  felt  so 
heartily  ashamed,  and  strode  along,  biting  his  pipe-stem 
harder  still. 

As  he  left  us,  Lascelles  and  Oakes,  taking  a  turn  in  the 
moonlight,  as  we  were  doing,  joined  us.  Lascelles  glanced 
after  the  boy's  retreating  figure  with  a  smile  and  a  sneer: 
"  Poor  little  Pop ;  so  he's  been  submitting  himself  to  the 
indignity  of  a  rejection.  I'd  have  spared  him  it  if  I'd 
known  what  he  meant  to  do." 

"  You  !"  repeated  Trevelyan,  with  a  glance  expressing, 
"  Why  the  devil  have  you  any  right  to  interfere  ?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Lascelles,  stroking  his  perfumed  light 
whiskers  with  self-sufficient  satisfaction ;  "  when  one's 
happy  oneself  one  can  afford  to  pity  others." 

"What  an  amiable  frame  of  mind  you  are  in,  Las- 
celles," said  Trevelyan.  "  something  cpiite  new.  Has 
your  eldest  brother  died  ?  or  the  Consols  gone  up  ?  or 
what  is  it  ?" 

"No,  Trevelyan;  better  luck  even  than  that,"  said 
Oakes,  who  was  a  blunt,  good-hearted  fellow.  "  He's  been 
and  gone  and  outwitted  us  all !  I  vote  we  all  call  him  out 
as  the. Frenchmen  did  that  luckless  editor  in  Paris,  and 
leave  him  so  riddled  with  bullets  that  Florestine  will  have 
nothing  to  say  to  him.  Lascelles  always  boasts  of  his 
luck  with  the  women,  and  now,  I  suppose,  we  shall  have 
to  believe  him,  for  he's  offered  his  blessed  person,  which 
we  know  he  thinks  an  Apollo's,  and  his  fifteen  hundred  a 
year,  which  we're  sure  is  the  real  attraction,  and  all  his  fu- 


HOW   ONE  FIRE   LIT  ANOTHER.  117 

ture  chances  of  the  Florentine  consulate,  to  the  papa  of 
that  clear,  amusing,  provoking-,  confounded  little  Regina, 
and,  what's  more,  got  'em  accepted.  Don't  you  feel  homici- 
dal ?  I  do ;  only  I'm  consoled  by  the  reflection  that  mar- 
riage is  such  an  awful  risk  and  bother,  and  it's  such  an 
even-odd  now-a-days  that  your  wife  runs  away  with  your 
stable-boy,  that  I  try  to  think  I'm  the  best  off." 

"I  caught  sight  of  Trevelyan's  face;  it  was  deathly 
pale — pale  as  when  a  man  is  in  a  dead  faint,  and  the  veins 
on  his  forehead  were  standing  out  in  painful  distinctness, 
his  lips  pressed  together  into  a  straight  line;  except  for 
that  he  stood  quite  calm  and  unmoved.  Lascelles  smiled 
with  conscious  vanity. 

"Oakes  has  peached  too  soon.  I  don't  wish  it  spoken 
about  yet,  but  I  think  I  may  say  I  am  pretty  well  sure  to 
have  to  ask  you  all  to  be  garcons  d'honneur  before  long. 
It's  a  great  sacrifice,  marriage — a  very  great  sacrifice, 
certainly;  but  what  can  a  man  do  when  a  little  fairy  like 
this  bewitches  him  ?" 

He  went  on,  as  he  drew  my  other  photograph  out  of 
his  pocket,  and  looked  at  it  in  the  moonlight,  curling  his 
whiskers  with  a  look  of  extreme  triumph  and  content- 
ment to  think  the  original  had  been  promised  to  him. 

Trevelyan's  face  grew  as  white  as  livid  as  if  were  cut 
in  stone,  and  I  wished  my  camera  and  collodion  had 
been  at  the  bottom  of  the  Red  Sea  before  they  had  been 
the  means  of  torturing  him  thus.  He  smiled,  however, 
and  congratulated  Lascelles  with  a  self-possession  and  a 
chill  gaiety  that  was  worse  to  see  than  any  grief.  It 
passed  counter  with  them,  and  Lascelles,  looking  up  at 
the  light  in  Florestine's  bedroom  window,  hummed  a  bar 
of  "  Stars  of  the  summer  night,"  put  his  pipe  out,  and 
bid  us  a  laughing  good  night. . 

The  unnatural  calm  of  Trevelyan  struck  a  chill  into 


118  HOW  ONE   FIRE  LIT  ANOTHER. 

me;  till  then  I  had  never  thought  he  cared  for  the  girl 
more  than  for  the  many  other  women  he  chatted  and 
laughed  with,  and  prescribed  for.  I  spoke  to  him  at  last 
a  few  words — I  hardly  remember  what;  he  turned  on  me 
fiercely,  a  fire  of  roused  passions  quivering  over  his  face. 

"For  Heaven's  sake,  let  me  alone,  as  the  boy  said;  I 
do  not  want  your  pity." 

He  went  up  the  staircase  without  another  word,  and  I 
heard  the  clang  of  his  bedroom  door  echo  into  the  calm 
night.  Next  morning,  as  it  had  been  previously  planned, 
we  and  the  Luards  were  to  part  to  meet  again  in  Paris 
in  two  months:  Luard  and  Trevelyan  had  agreed  to  do 
so  one  evening,  on  Florestine's  remarking  how  much  she 
wanted  to  see  Rachel  in  "Phedre."  Now,  I  knew  he 
woidd  never  go  with  her  to  the  Francais,  never  see  her 
again  if  he  could  help  it  ;  but  Florestihe  did  not  and 
could  not  guess  it  from  Royston's  conversation  at  break- 
fast, which  was  more  brilliant  and  pungent  than  ever — 
the  phosphorus  that  sparkles  over  the  wreck  lying  below. 
He  addressed  her  father  chiefly,  who  was  planning  which 
hotel  they  should  go  to  in  Baden,  with  all  the  other  triv- 
ialities that  become  paramount  to  a  tourist,  and  did 
most  of  the  talking-  kiniself.  Somehow,  that  breakfast 
was  miserably  triste,  though  Royston  was  as  brilliant, 
and  Luard  as  egotistical,  as  ever,  and  Lacelles  in  the 
highest  possible  spirits.  But,  without  counting  all  the 
under-currents,  there  is  something  detestable  in  the  last 
of  anything — the  last  day,  the  last  look,  the  last  meeting 
(the  last  bill  is  the  only  last  thing  I  was  ever  glad  to  say 
good-bye  to) — and  our  breakfast  as  I  say,  was  uncom- 
monly glum;  our  radiant  Regina  had  neither  laughter, 
repartee,  nor  sunshine  for  us  that  morning. 

The  time  came,  the  char-a-banc  was  at  the  door  (Pop 
was  locked  up  in  his  own  bed-chamber,  sobbing  his  heart 


HOW  ONE   FIEE  LIT  ANOTHER.  119 

out  amidst  the  debris  of  valises,  carpet-bags,  shepherd 
plaids,  wide-awakes,  cigar-cases,  and  pocket-pistols,  as 
pitiful  a  picture  of  woe  as  Ajax  among  the  slaughtered 
herds,)  Trevelyan  went  up  to  our  little  Queen,  holding 
out  his  hand  with  a  pleasant  smile,  for  was  not  Lascelles 
there  to  see  ? 

"  W  ell,  Miss  Luard,  good-by,  and  bon  voyage !  We 
have  had  a  delightful  three  months'  tour,  and  I  am  sure 
I  ought  to  thank  you  immensely  for  many  amusing  days. 
I  hope  we  shall  be  always  friends  of  happy  reminiscence, 
as  your  favorite  Tupper  says." 

Florestine  threw  back  her  head  with  a  haughty  ges- 
ture; her  face  was  deadly  pale,  and  laughed  with  her 
teeth  set  together,  as  she  said,  coldly,  "  There  is  no  obli- 
gation whatever;  you  will  be  equally  amused  elsewhere, 
and  you  contributed  much  more  than  I  did  to  the  gen- 
eral enjoyment.     Adieu,  et  bon  voyage  also  !" 

Roys  ton  turned  away  from  her  to  shake  hands  with 
her  father — there  was  no  sign  of  the  lava  burning  under 
the  ice,  except  the  savage  fierceness  of  one  momentary 
glance  at  Lascelles — then  he  went  up  to  his  own  room 
for  a  brandy-flask  he  had  left  there.  The  char-a-banc 
waited  five  minutes;  he  was  not  down,  so  I  ran  up-stairs 
to  call  him.  '  His  door  stood  half  open ;  I  saw  him  stand- 
ing on  the  hearth,  stamping  into  a  thousand  pieces — as 
if  he  would  crush  out  with  it  all  memory  and  all  passion 
— Florestine's  photograph. 

I  went  away  without  entering;  in  a  few  minutes  ha 
came  out.  and  down  the  dim,  obscure  staircase.  As  he 
tore  dowr  it,  a  woman's  figure  came  swiftly  after  him, 
and  a  voice,  broken  and  breathless,  cried  "  Wait !  wait !" 
But  he  was  mad  for  the  time  being,  and,  as  men  often 
do,  thrust  away  from  him  in  blind  haste  the  very  happi- 
ness he  would  have  given  his  life  to  win. 


120  HOW   ONE   FERE   LIT.  ANOTHER. 

In  another  minute  we  were  driving  away  from  Inter- 
lachen — Interlachen,  so  bright  and  fair,  with  the  morn- 
ing sunshine  on  its  walnut-trees,  and  cloister  towers, 
and  silvery  mountain  ranges;  contrast  enough,  in  their 
peace  and  purity,  to  the  fever  in  his  blood  and  the 
tempest  in  his  heart. 


V. 


SUNSHINE   AFTER   STORM. 

Just  that  day  twelvemonth  I  walked  into  Trevelyan's 
house  in  the  West-End.  After  we  left  Interlachen  we 
came  straight  home,  I  to  begin  that  confounded  Michael- 
mas term,  Pop  to  try  and  drive  away  his  luckless  love  in 
Badminton  and  Cafes  Regence,  oyster  suppers,  Star  and 
Garter  dinners,  matches  with  All  England,  and  such-like 
pastimes  of  youth.  Trevelyan,  too,  put  his  name  on  the 
door,  began  practice,  and  worked  vehemently  at  it,  to  try 
and  forget,  if  he  could,  the  curse  that  had  clung  to  him 
ever  since  the  Chamounix  fire.  His  practice  was  more 
civil  to  him  than  he  was  to  it,  and  Fortune  favored  him 
more  than  that  capricieuae  generally  does  any  man  who 
forgets  to  court  her,  for,  neglectful  as  he  had  been  of  all 
his  interests,  when  he  came  home,  and  set  himself  seri- 
ously to  it  for  the  first  time  in.  his  life,  his  splendid  tal- 
ents began  to  tell,  and  ladies  who  had  regretted  "  that 
dear  Mr.  Trevelyan,  who  was  so  delightful  to  talk  to,  and 
made  one's  cold  quite  a  pleasant  occurrence,"  when  he 
left,  welcomed  his  reappearance,  and  sent  for  him  speed- 

ily. 


HOW   ONE   FIRE  LIT  ANOTHER.  121 

But  Trevelyan  was  sadly  altered;  true,  his  faoe  was  as 
handsome,  his  manner  as  graceful  and  gentle,  his  wit 
even  finer  and  more  sarcastic  than  ever,  but  /  missed  a 
ring  in  his  laugh,  a  rapidity  in  his  step,  a  joyousness  in 
his  smile ;  there  was  an  absence  of  his  old  energy,  a  hard- 
ness in  his  satire,  a  chill  over  him  altogether,  which  told 
me  the  seed  sown  in  those  merry  days  in  the  Oberland 
had  brought  forth  thorns  enough.  Florestine  was  his 
strongest  and  his  last  love,  and  when  men,  my  dear 
madam,  run  for  that  cup  and  miss  the  distance,  they  sel- 
dom care  to  enter  themselves  for  any  new  plate. 

Just  twelve  months,  as  I  say,  since  the  Chamounix 
fire,  I  went  to  see  Trevelyan  in  the  evening,  about  nine. 
He  had  just  done  dinner,  and  was  sitting  reading  the 
Westminster  with  his  pipe  in  his  mouth,  and  his  cockatoo 
vainly  trying  to  attract  his  attention  with  futile  cries  of 
admiration  at  itself. 

"  Well,'  old  fellow,  how  are  you  ?"  said  he,  looking  up, 
while  the  bird  screamed,  "You  here,  you  rascal! — you 
here  ?"  at  the  top  of  his  voice.  "  Have  you  dined  ?  Why 
_didn't  you  come  in  time  for  dinner  at  seven?  I  expect 
Pop  in  every  minute;  the  young  donkey  has  been  backing 
Cornet  for  the  Goodwood,  lost  a  pot  of  money  borrowed 
at  eighty  per  cent.,  and  is  now  in  a  row  with  his  governor 
about  it.  I  dare  say  he'll  come  to  me  all  his  life  through 
to  help  him  out  of  some  scrape  or  other." 

"  Pop,  Pop,  Pop !  where's  Pop  ?"  screamed  the  cocka- 
too. Just  then  the  bell  rang,  the  servant  opened  the 
door,  and  in  came  Pop,  the  same  sturdy,  snobbish,  good- 
natured,  red-whiskered  boy  who  singed  himself  at  Cha- 
mounix, and  fell  head  and  ears  in  love  with  Florestine 
Luard  twelve  months  before.  He  sat  with  us  an  horr, 
talking,  over  coffee  and  pipes,  of  his  governor,  his  diffi- 
culties, his  new  bay  mare,  his  bet  with  Harry  Villiers  that 

6 


122  HOW  ONE   FIRE  LIT  ANOTHER. 

the  Pet  would  pound  Bully  Broan,  with  simitar  interest- 
ing confidences  from  his  private  and  public  life,  he  hav- 
ing finally  launched  into  the  career  of  a  man  about  town, 
which  suited  him,  though  I  cannot  say  he  graced  it,  be- 
ing still  somewhat  raw,  and  not  a  little  obtuse.  At  last 
he  rose,  reluctantly  enough  it  appeared,  for  he  was  never 
happier  than  when  with  Trevelyan,  whom  he  adored,  as 
a  Skye  adores  its  master,  saying  he  did  not  want  to  be 
bored,  by  going  to  a  drum  with  his  mother,  which  was 
his  mission  for  that  night.  He  fidgeted  about  for  some 
minutes,  rolling  his  pipe  nervously  round  in  his  fingers, 
with  a  color  in  his  cheeks  rather  derogatory  to  the  skould- 
be  Charles  Coldstreamism  of  his  character  as  a  fast  man 
— a  nil  admirari-ism  difficult,  by  the  way,  to  attain  when 
one  is  nineteen,  and  does  not  know  the  color  of  one's 
Bath  bun  is  only  chromate  of  lead. 

He  had  evidently  something  on  his  mind,  and  with 
Pop  to  have  a  thing  on  his  mind  was  to  speak  it.  At 
last  out  it  came: 

"I  say,  Trevelyan,  I  saw  her  to-day." 

"I  saw  a  quick  electric  flush  pass  over  Boyston's  face; 
his  lips  parted,  but  he  could  not  command  his  voice  to 
speak.     He  looked  up  quickly  with  an  involuntary  start. 

"  I  was  coming  up  from  Windsor,  where  I'd  been  break- 
fasting with  a  man  in  the  Blues,  and  saw  her  get  out  of 
the  train  at  Paddington.  I  don't  know  whom  she  was 
with,"  went  on  Pop,  confusedly — he  had  never  guessed 
that  his  madness   was  shared — "  and   she  didn't  notice 

me;  but  when  I  saw  her  face,  it  seemed — it  seemed 

Confound  it,  it  made  me  feel  as  spooney  as  ever  !  I'd 
thought  I'd  forgotten  her,  but  she  isn't  tlie  sort  of  stuff 
to  be  forgotten." 

And  poor  Pop  broke  down  in  his  not  over  poetic  ex- 
pressions, and  drummed  on  the  table  with  a  half-pitiful, 


HOW  ONE  FTBE  LIT  ANOTHER.  123 

half-comical  expression.     Trevelyan  sat  still,  stroking  the 
bird's  head  absently. 

"I  tried  to  follow  her,  but  I  couldn't,"  Pop  went  on. 
"  I  missed  their  carriage.  By  Heaven  !  if  I'd  seen  Las- 
celles  with  her,  I  think  I  should  have  struck  him.  I  felt 
just  such  a  fool  about  her  as  I  did  at  Interlachen.  I 
wish  you'd  try  and  find  out  whether  that  cursed  fellow 
did  marry  her  or  not.  You  never  heard  anything  of 
him,  did  you  ?" 

"Never,"  I  answered  him;  "but  as  he  always  lives 
abroad — in  Florence,  I  believe,  with  that  rich  old  uncle 
of  his — 'tisn't  likely  I  should  have  done.  I  say,  be  off; 
it's  ten  o'clock ;  you  will  be  too  late  to  go  with  your  re- 
vered mother." 

Pop  took  his  hat  in  silence,  looking  doleful  beyond  ex- 
pression, nodded  us  a  good  night,  and  went  out  amidst 
Cocky's  vehement  assxirances  that  he  was  a  rascal.  Tre- 
velyan sat  still  in  his  arm-chair  after  he  was  gone,  with 
the  same  iron  rigidity  on  his  face  that  it  had  worn  the 
last  night  at  Interlachen,  every  feature  as  set  and  white 
as  if  chiselled  in  marble. 

I  did  not  like  to  see  him  thus,  so  got  up  and  laid  my 
hand  on  his  shoulder,  saying,  "  Eoyston,  dear  old  fellow, 
don't  care  for  her." 

"Would  to  Heaven  I  did  not!"  All  the  passion  pent 
up  in  him  for  the  past  year  burst  its  barriers  in  those 
few  little  words.  He  started  up,  and  leaned  his  head  in 
his  arms  on  the  mantlepiece.  "  I  have  tried  hard,"  he 
muttered,  "to  forget  her,  in  reckless  pleasures,  in  untir- 
ing work,  but  I  cannot.  It  is  very  strange.  Other 
women  I  have  left  and  forgotten,  but  she — nothing  drives 
her  from  my  mind.  Night  and  day  I  am  haunted  by  her 
memory,  till  I  am  well-nigh  mad.  I  hoped  I  had  found 
a  woman  truer  than  the  rest.     I  had  begun  to  believe  in 


124  HOW  ONE   FIRE  LIT  ANOTHER. 

her  warm  words,  her  ingenuous  eyes,  her  winning  ways, 
and  then,  good  Heavens  !  to  learn  they  were  all  so  many 
lies — to  know  they  were  all  equally  given  to  another " 

He  stopped,  he  shook  like  a  girl,  and  pressed  his  fore- 
head hard  against  the  cold  marble  of  the  mantlepiece 
At  that  moment  the  door-bell  rang. 

Trevelyan,  as  I  say,  was  none  of  your  would-be  M.D.s, 
with  bought  testimonials,  and  practice  as  chimerical  as 
their  reputation.  He  kept  to  consultation,  therefore, 
and  was  seldom  disturbed  in  the  evening.  But  just  now 
the  door  opened,  and  his  servant  entered  hurriedly  with 
a  message,  to  the  effect  that  a  gentleman  in  the  next 
house  had  fallen  down  in  an  apoplectic  fit.  Would  he 
mind  going  in  immediately  ?  He  turned  round  with  mi- 
raculous self-command,  sent  the  servant  back  with  a 
calm  "I  will  come!"  waited  a  moment,  drank  some 
brandy,  took  his  hat,  and,  nodding  to  me,  told  me  to 
wait  till  he  came  back,  and  went  out,  looking  as  worn 
and  haggard  as  a  man  after  a  six  weeks'  fever. 

I  did  not  wait  till  he  came  back,  having  an  engage- 
ment to  an  oyster  supper  at  Little  Watt's  chambers,  in 
King's  Bench- walk,  and  it  was  well  I  did  not,  for  his  own 
house  never  saw  him  again  till  eight  the  next  morning. 
No.  14,  next  door,  had  been  lately  let  to  a  new  tenant,  who 
had,  it  seems,  only  just  taken  possession  of  the  tenement 
before  apoplexy  took  possession  of  him.  It  was  only  a 
slight  stroke,  but  sufficient  to  alarm  his  household. 
Trevelyan  heard  a  few  words  from  a  housemaid  as  he 
took  off  his  hat,  ran  up  the  stairs  with  his  noiseless  step, 
entered  the  room  where  the  patient  lay,  and  stood  face 
to  face  with — Florestine  Luard. 

They  stood  for  a  moment  looking  at  each  other  in 
silence,  then  she  sprang  towards  him,  egaree,  either  in 
surprise  or  joy.     But  in  that  minute  Trevelyan  had  time 


HOW   ONE   FIRE  LIT  ANOTHER.  125 

to  ice  into  the  impenetrability  be  was  too  fond  of  draw- 
ing round  himself.  Nobody  could  have  guessed  Flores- 
tine  was  any  more  to  him  than  the  commonest  acquain- 
tance as  he  bowed  and  took  her  hand  with  chill  courtesy, 
spoke  a  few  words  of  recognition,  and  inquired  about 
her  father's  sudden  attack.  She  answered  him  discon- 
nectedly, and  with  something  of  his  own  formality  (Roys- 
ton,  in  that  mood,  genial  and  winning  as  he  is  in  all  oth- 
ers, is  enough  to  freeze  over  a  hot  spring, )  and  turned  to 
the  old  gentleman's  bedside  in  sile:  ce. 

There  he  stayed  till  dawn,  watching  him  through  the 
night,  only  exchanging  the  simplest  common-places,  or 
giving  the  briefest  directions  to  Florestine.  It  was  an 
odd  meeting  truly  with  the  radiant  queen  of  our  Switzer- 
land party,  and  in  the  stillness  of  the  sick-room  they 
passed  the  long  hours  together,  she  pale,  silent,  and 
sjnritless,  he  barely  addressing  the  woman  he  loved  as 
often  as 'he  would  have  done  an  hospital  nurse. 

Towards  morning  his  patient  rallied,  and  Trevelyan 
rose.  As  he  did  so,  the  utter  dejection  of  Florestine's 
attitude  struck  him.  She  was  kneeling  against  the  bed, 
still  in  her  light  evening  dress,  with  her  face  leaning  on 
the  pillows;  and  as  the  lamp-light  glittered  on  the  eme- 
ralds of  her  bracelet,  he  noticed  that  the  arm  it  clasped 
was  a  good  deal  thinner  than  it  had  been  twelve  months 
before.  He  could  not  stand  still' there  and  look  tran- 
quilly on  at  her.  He  went  up  to  her,  stern  and  chill, 
determined  to  keep  down  by  sheer  force  all  tenderness 
or  trace  of  feeling. 

'•  /diss  Luard,  can  I  have  a  word  with  you?' 

She  started  and  rose,  following  him  silently  into  the 
next  room. 

"You  need  be  under  no  further  apprehension  for  your 
father,"  he  began,  speaking  between  his  teeth;  "I  do  not 


126  HOW   ONE   FIRE   LIT   ANOTHER. 

perceive  the  slightest  danger.  I  will  send  you  a  good 
nurse,  as  you  desire,  and  will  come  in  again  early.  If 
he  awake,  give  him  this  draught." 

"  Thank  you." 

She  did  not  trust  herself  to  more;  her  voice  sounded 
changed.  She  was  tired,  he  thought.  There  was  an 
awkard  pause.  Trevelyan  employed  himself  in  drawing 
up  the  blinds;  the  morning  sun  streamed  in,  and  Flores- 
tine  turned  away  from  the  light.  Trevelyan  lingered 
against  his  will,  but  he  wanted  certainty,  even  if  the 
worst;  he  attempted  conversation  once  more,  but  he 
failed  signally,  probably  for  the  first  time  in  his  life. 
There  was  another  silence;  he  played  with  the  blind- 
tassel  impatiently.  Suddenly  his  eyes  met  hers,  and 
Royston  had  no  farther  control  over  himself.  Her  face, 
in  the  full  light  of  the  dawn,  unmanned  him,  and  his 
strength  went  down  as  the  Nazarene's  before  the  witch- 
ery  of  the  Philistine.  He  caught  hold  of  her  arm  till  his 
fingers  crushed  the  fragile  bracelet. 

"  TeU  me  the  truth.     Are  you  his  wife  ?" 

She  looked  up,  startled  at  his  fierce  excitement. 

"  His  wife !     Whose  wife  ?" 

"Lascelles's — or  any  man's?  Good  Heaven!  can  you 
not  answer  me  ?" 

He  was  crushing  the  bracelet  closer  in  his  anguish  of 
suspense.  She  answered  him  with  her  old  vehemence, 
wrenching  her  arm  away  froin  his  grasp: 

"I  am  no  one's  wife.  low 'might  know  that.  "What 
right  have  you  to  portion  me  oft'  to  Lascelles,  or  to  any 
one  else?  What  right  have  you  to  class  me  with  the 
low-bred  intrigantes  or  fashionable  manceuvrers  who 
haggle  for  a  wedding  ring,  and  have  taught  you  disgust 
for  all  our  sex.  ?  What  right  have  you  to  judge  that  I 
should  marry  for  marrying's  sake,  take  any  man's  name — ■ 


HOW    OXE   FTRE   LIT   ANOTHER.  127 

the  first  that  offered — and  give  myself  for  mere  position 
where  you  know  my  love  would  never  go " 

And  here  Miss  Florentine  stopped  in  her  impassioned 
harangue,  and  looked  up  in  Trevelyan's  face  with  pas- 
sionate, loving,  tearful,  indignant  eyes — eyes  that  no 
man  skilled  in  face  or  character  could  doubt  for  long. 

Trevelyan's  haughty  lips  quivered;  he  sank  upon  a 
couch,  leaning  his  head  upon  a  table  near — joy  beat  him 
down  more  even  than  sorrow.  And  little  Eegina — what 
did  she  do,  mademoiselle?  She  did  what  I  wish  to 
Heaven  you  would  do  sometimes.  She  forgot  dignity, 
and  custom,  and  convenance  (i.  e.  self,  the  grand  princi- 
ple, after  all,  of  all  the  virtues  you  women  plume  your- 
selves upon  so  highly,)  she  forgot  that  he  might  not 
care  two  straws  for  her,  or  that  she  might  compromise 
herself  irremediably,  she  only  remembered  that  she 
loved  Trevelyan,  and  that  she  could  not  bear  to  part 
with  him  in  anger;  she  knelt  down  by  him  and  whis- 
pered like  a  little  child  sorry  for  a  great  fault,  though, 
Heaven  knows,  the  error  lay  on  his  side  rather  than  on 
hers. 

"Why  are  you  angry  with  me?  What  have  I  done? 
You  know  I  would  never  have  married  where  I  coidd 
never  love." 

Royston  did  not  let  her  finish  her  elocpience;  he  seized 
her  hands  and  drew  her  close  to  him,  kissed  her  lips  and 
brow  and  hair,  large  tears  glancing  in  his  falcon  eyes. 

"Thank  God!  thank  God!  My  little  Queen,  love  me 
and  forgive  me." 

She  did  love  him,  and  forgive  him  too,  as  all  women 
worth  being  asked  for  their  absolution  always  will  any 
sin  on  the  face  of  the  earth,  from  the  smashing  of  the 
entire  Decalogue  to  so  pardonable  an  error  as  Tre- 
velyan's. 


128  HOW   ONE   FIRE  LIT   ANOTHER. 

"You  were  very  cruel,"  said  Florestine,  shaking  her 
head  gravely  at  him  half  an  hour  afterwards,  "  and  very 
wicked  to  believe  that  an  hour  after  you  had  asked  me 
for  my  photograph  I  could  have  given  the  other  to  any 
one,  much  less  to  that  vain  idiot.  Mr.  Lascelles  had 
spoken  to  papa  that  day,  and  papa  encouraged  him — he 
thinks  as  ill  of  his  daughters,  you  know,  as  of  all  other 
women — and  as  Mr.  Lascelles  was  in  a  very  good  posi- 
tion, and  his  villa  at  Florence  very  pretty,  it  never 
occurred  to  him  that  I  should  resist  his  proposals. 
Papa  lent  him  the  photograph,  too,  that  evening,  and  as 
he  never  told  me  of  it  till  the  next  day,  I  dare  say,  when 
he  talked  to  you,  he  did  consider  himself  accepted.  But 
you  shoidd  have  known  better;  you  shoidd  have  been 
sure  that,  having  once  seen  you,  I  could  have  never  tol- 
erated him,  or  any  other." 

Trevelyan  smiled,  and  kissed  her  upraised  face.  It 
did  his  heart  good  to  hear  a  woman  speak  fondly  and 
fervently  of  her  love  for  him,  and  not  think  it  necessary 
to  turn  away  and  hide  it  like  some  unmentionable  crime, 
with  the  overdrawn  prudery  to  which,  entre  nous,  the 
boldest  women  are  often  the  most  addicted.  Nobody 
affected  prudery  more  than  Ninon  de  l'Enclos.  Frank- 
ness and  guileness  have  no  rouge,  and  need  no  veil. 
Your  enamelled  cheeks  cannot  walk  without  one. 

"  Do  you  remember  telling  me  at  Chamounis,"  he  asked 
her,  "  that  my  skepticism  would  destroy  my  own  happi- 
ness, and  refuse  all  justice  to  others  ?"  Life  taught  it  me 
perforce,  and  this  past  year  has  been  punishment  enough, 
Heaven  knows.  You  will  not  visit  it  on  me  further, 
Florestine  ?" 

She  laughed  her  old  mischievous  laugh  as  she  looked 
up  into  his  eyes.  "  No,  or  I  should  punish  myself  too ! 
But  you  should  have  known  your  sword  was  true  steel 


HOW   ONE   FIRE   LIT  ANOTHER.  129 

without  passing  it  through  so  fiery  a  furnace.  You 
never  knew  me  tell  a  lie;  you  never,  I  know,  saw  in  me 
any  artifice  or  affectation;  you  had  no  right  to  condemn 
me  on  suspicion.  I  have  seen  enough  of  life  to  feel  that 
skepticism  is  the  wisest  altitude  of  judgment,  and  what 
is  called  looking  on  the  dark  side  of  humanity  is  to  look 
upon  the  real  one.  But  still,  to  those  who  have  always 
been  true  to  us,  we  should  be  loyal  in  thought;  and,  oh! 
Royston  dearest,  where  we  love  we  should  always  have 
faith — faith  in  their  better  nature,  that  is  only  perhaps 
revealed,  even  though  the  world  judged  and  found  them 
guilty  of  any  sin  or  weakness." 


This  is  I860 — five  years  since  our  Fire  at  Chamounix; 
but  though  I  have  washed  my  eyes  with  the  strongest 
collyrium  of  skepticism  on  such  points,  I  cannot  with 
truth  say"  that  I  find  in  Royston  and  Florestine  any  trace 
that  the  passion  first  lit  from  the  ashes  of  the  smoking 
hotel  in  the  shadow  of  the  Alps  has  grown  one  whit  the 
cooler  for  time.  They  married,  imprudently  perhaps, 
for  they  were  certainly  a  long  way  off  Royston's  old  min- 
imum; but  they  both  preferred  running  the  risk  of  for- 
tune to  the  peines  fortes  et  dures  of  a  long  engagement, 
as  there  "was  no  granite  obstacle  to  necessitate  one. 
Luard  gave  her  no  money;  he  demonstrated  to  Tre- 
velyan,  who  entirely  agreed  with  him,  that  if  he  had 
given  portions  to  each  of  his  four  daughters,  he  would 
have  straitened  himself  to  a  degree  no  man  could  expect 
him  to  do.  The  pelicans  may  like  plucking  their  breast- 
feathers,  but  I  must  say  I,  too,  think  it  hard  on  a  man  to 
have  to  split  up  his  income  just  because  his  children 
choose  to  marry.  When  we  are  in  Kensal  Green  it  is 
time  enough  for  the  young  hawks  to  pick  our  bones; 
6* 


130  HOW   OXE   FERE   LIT   ANOTHER 

•we  do  not  -want  to  suffer  and  superintend  tne  process 
alive.  Trevelyan  smoked  two  or  three  pipes  over  it,  hav- 
ing a  fight  between  prudence  and  passion.  Happily  he 
had  a  good  deal  of  the  last  and  very  little  of  the  first, 
and  he  was  so  restless  and  ill  at  ease  without  Florestine, 
that  he  thought  he  would  try  living  with  her,  and, 
adopting  her  epicurean  philosophy,  caught  hold  of  his 
present,  and  let  his  future  take  care  of  itself.  He  knew 
well  enough  she  would  have  waited  for  him  till  dooms- 
day, after  the  manner  of  that  luckless  Evangeline;  but  he 
was  too  much  in  love  to  fritter  away  her  youth  and  his 
manhood  in  an  indefinite  probation,  till  he  had  a  broug- 
ham and  a  butler,  and  the  soi-disant  "necessaries"  of 
polite  society.  So  they  were  married;  the  very  worst 
thing  for  a  man  generally,  but  occasionally  the  best 
thing  for  him  when  he  is  Trevelyan's  age,  and  has  Tre- 
velyan's  madness  on  him,  knows  he  shall  not  love  again, 
and  feels  he  shall  work  the  better  abroad  for  having  rest 
and  sunshine  at  home. 

It  has  turned  out  well,  for  him  at  the  least.  I  dined 
with  them  last  night,  and  little  Pop,  too  (Pop  has  sub- 
sided into  an  ardent  friendship  for  his  Interlachen  love, 
who  hears  all  his  difficulties,  and  does  more  to  polish 
him  than  all  the  rouge  powder  of  his  chill,  stately  home,) 
and  we  had  more  fun  than  if  we  had  had  a  powdered 
flunkey  behind  each  chair.  I  can  assure  you  Trevelyan 
and  Florestine  have  set  themselves  dead  against  the 
gourinet  practice  of  coming  for  Johannisberg  and  turtle 
at  nine,  and  leaving  at  twelve,  as  soon  as  the  Johannis- 
berg and  turtle  are  disposed  of;  and  their  occasional 
evenings,  which  cost  them  little,  and  yet  have  such  a 
strange  charm  for  the  most  d  ,  are  more  delightful 

in  their  abandon,  intellectual  discussion,  and  refined  wit, 
than  all  the  heavy  and  magnificent  crushes  at  Freshlac- 


HOW  ONE   FIRE  LIT  ANOTHEE.  131 

quers's  Eaton  Square  mansion.  There  is  an  element  of 
society  better  than  claret,  after  all,  though,  certainly,  in 
most  places  where  one  goes,  the  claret  is  the  only  good 
thing.  Five  years  have  passed,  and  the  five  years  have 
made  Florestine  a  still  more  radiant  Regina  than  in  our 
touring  days  at  Interlachen,  and  Trevelyan,  dear  old  fel- 
low, looking  across  the  table  at  her  last  night,  said,  with 
a  happy  smile  on  his  lips,  which  gave  the  he  to  his 
words,  that  the  worst  thing  that  ever  happened  to  him 
was  when  one  Fire  lit  Another,  and  he  repaired  the 
Mischief  done  by  my  Photograph. 


THE  MARQUIS'S  TACTICS. 


THE  MARQUIS'S  TACTICS. 


i. 


LORD  GLEN'S  PRELIMINARY  SHOTS. 

"My  dear  Cyril,  why  don't  you  marry?"  asked  the 
Marquis  of  Glenallerton  of  his  second  son. 

St.  Albans,  lying  on  his  sofa  in  his  rooms  in  the  Man- 
sion, smoking  a  hookah,  and  drinking  hock  and  Seltzer, 
looked  up,  stared,  and  laughed. 

"  Why  don't  I  marry  ?  My  dear  governor,  you  shouldn't 
ask  point  blank  questions  like  that.  Please  remember 
one's  nerves.  "Why  don't  I?  Because,  though  Pascal 
says  'L'homme  n'est  ni  bete  ni  ange,'  I  think  he  is  most 
irrevocably  and  undeniably  bete  when  he  assumes  the 
matrimonial  fetters  ?" 

"  Of  course,"  responded  the  Marquis,  familiarly  known 
as  Lord  Glen.  We  all  known  that  marriage  is  a  social 
arrangement,  and  inconvenience,  like  the  income-tax,  and 
one  conforms  to  it  as  such.  I'm  not  asking  you  to  go 
and  fall  in  love,  and  crown  a  thousand  follies  with  an 
irremediable  one;  God  forbid!  with  all  your  absurdities 
you  are  too  much  a  man  of  the  world  to  make  me  fear 
that.  I  was  merely  thinking You're  near  thirty,  ain't 

you?" 


136  the  marquis's  tactics. 

"  Three-and-thirty,  last  January,"  responded  St.  Al- 
bans, with  a  profound  sigh,  as  if  it  were  the  finale  instead 
of  the  commencement  of  manhood. 

"  Very  well.  You  have  mene  la  vie  to  your  heart's  con- 
tent; you  have  had  bonnes  fortunes  in  plenty;  you  are  a 
most  shockingly  indolent  dog;  your  debts  are  very  heavy, 
you  will  bet — and  on  the  most  unlikely  events,  too — as  if 
you  were  a  milhonnaire  like  Crowndiamonds.  I  think, 
considering  you  are  a  younger  son,  and  will  get  nothing 
more  from  me,  that  a  good  marriage,  far  from  being  a 
betise,  would  show  greater  wisdom  than  I  should  give 
you  credit  for  after  your  tomfoolery  at  Wilverton — the 
idea  of  losing  a  borough  that  your  family  have  had  in 
their  pocket  for  ages,  for  a  pack  of  rubbish  about,  '  not 
bribing!'  Bacon  took  bribes,  however  they  try  to  smooth 
it  over  as  'fees,'  and  Walpole  gave  'em.  Do  you  set 
yourself  above  them,  jiray  ?" 

"Certainly  not;  one  was  a  lawyer,  and  had  the  devil  to 
sharpen  his  wits  ;  the  other  was  a  toper,  and  did  very 
shrewd  things  in  his  cups.  But  don't  worry  me  about  it; 
pray.  I  assure  you  it  wasn't  any  bosh  about  honor  or 
virtue  that  made  me  refuse  to  bribe  the  Wilvertonians;  it 
was  only  laziness,  on  my  word ;  I  hated  the  bore  of  St. 
Stephen's,  and  didn  't  know  how  else  to  get  rid  of  the 
affair.  Indolence  is  hereditary  and  chronic  in  me  .  I 
can't  help  it." 

"  Well,  well,  you  lost  the  election ,  so  there's  an  end 
of  it,"  said  the  Marquis,  impatiently,  in  happy  ignor- 
ance of  the  sneer  on  his  son's  lips,  "  but  with  regard  to 
your  marrying.  Well,  don't  you  think  you  could  do 
it?" 

"  Decidedly,  I  could  do  it,"  replied  St.  Albans,  with  a 
glance  at  himself  in  an  opposite  mirror. 

"  Then  do  do  it.     You  have  only  to  choose;  any  wo- 


THE   MARQUIS'S   TACTICS.  137 

man  would  have  you.  I  don't  mean  a  nouvelle  riche, 
you  shouldn't  ally  us  with  a  parvenue  to  save  yourself 
from  starving;  but  such  as  Lady  Elma  Fer " 

"  Not  for  an  El  Dorado  !  She  is  eight-and-twenty,  is 
freckled,  and  has  red  hair " 

"  Pray  what  does  beauty  matter  in  a  wife  ?  You  will 
have  plenty  of  beauties  left  elsewhere,  won't  you  ?" 

"  I  hope  so;  but  I  shouldn't  be  able  to  enjoy  them,  for 
one  tete-a-tete  with  a  freckled  woman  would  have  killed 
me." 

"  Talk  sense,"  interrupted  old  Glen,  angrily.  "  One 
would  think  you  had  no  brains,  Cyril.  Look  at  it  ration- 
ally. Is  there  anything  for  you  but  to  make  a  rich  mar- 
riage ?" 

St.  Albans  took  a  few  silent  puffs  from  his  hookah  with 
a  profound  sigh,  and  answered  not. 

"  I  can  give  you  no  money,  and  you  have  the  devil's  own 
taste  for  expensive  pleasures  and  raffines  luxuries;  you 
have  lived  at  double  the  rate  your  brothers  have  for  the 
last  fifteen  years.  Go  on  as  you  are  now,  you  must  go 
to  the  dogs  your  own  way;  /  can't  help  you;  I'm  en 
route  there  myself.  Marry  an  heiress,  your  difficulties  are 
cleared,  and  you  can  have  your  pleasures  a  votre  gre. 
As  for  wanting  beauty  in  your  wife, — one  would  think 
you  were  twenty !  Your  mother  was  plain;  she  had  good 
blood  and  money,  but  she  was  remarkably  plain  ;  you 
take  all  your  beauty  from  me.  Now  there  is  Avarina 
Sansreproche,  most  unobjectionable  in  every  way,  will  be 
Baroness  Turquoise  and  Malachite  in  her  own  right;  not 
exactly  pretty,  perhaps,  bat  very  good  style:  a  woman 
who  would  never  do  a  silly  thing,  or  make  a  dubious 
acquaintance.  Her  mother,  I  know,  would  not  object 
to  the  alliance;  in  fact,  you  need  only  be  a  little  rational 
and  passive,  and  I  could  arrange  it  for  vou:  the  mere 


138  the  marquis's  tactics. 

whisper  of  an  alliance  with  her  would  quiet  those  Jews 
in  a  moment.     Are  you  listening,  Cyril  ?" 

St.  Albans  yawned  and  stretched  himself  a  little  more 
comfortably:  "  Most  attentively,  sir;  but  you  must  really 
excuse  my  answering;  it's  too  warm  to  talk." 

"  Well,  say  yes  or  no,  if  that's  not  too  much  exertion. 
You  are  in  a  perfect  Gordian  knot  of  difficulties.  Do  you 
Bee  any  way  of  cutting  it  but  the  one  I  propose  ?" 

His  son  yawned  again,  sighed,  and  took  a  long  whiff  of 
his  perfumed  hubble-bubble : 

"  My  dear  governor,  if  you  will  make  me  speak,  no, 
I  don't  see  any  other  way;  I  wish  I  did,  because  really 
the  trouble  of  thinking  is  odious;  the  day's  so  much  too 
close  to  do  anything  but  drink  Seltzer." 

"  You  admit  you  don't  see  any  other  way  of  getting  out 
of  your  labyrinth  of  debts,  and  going  on  smoothly  in  the 
future  ?"  Cyril  St.  Albans  shut  his  eyes  and  shifted  his 
cushions : 

"  I  said  I  didn't — pray  don't  worry.  I  dare  say  I  could 
get  a  very  good  living  as  model  to  the  artist  fellows;  they 
want  handsome  men,  and  I've  no  doubt  my  hand  alone 
would  bring  in  a  very  fair  sum.  But  you'd  think  that 
rather  derogatory  to  the  family,  you  see;  so  that  career 
ain't  open  to  me." 

Lord  Glen  laughed,  and  rose  from  his  chair: 

"  Don't  be  a  fool,  Cyril,  but  go  and  call  in  Wilton 
Crescent.  Think  over  what  I  have  said,  and  act  like  a 
pratical  man  for  once,  if  you  can.  You  must  mary  Ava- 
rina,  for  T  can  tell  you  for  your  comfort  that  bookmakers 
are  beginning  to  back  Coronation  very  confidently,  and 
that  I  know  on  good  authority  Caradoc  hasn't  himself  the 
confidence  in  Grey  Royal  that  you  fancy;  that  mare  will 
no  more  win  the  Queen's  Cup  than  your  Park  hack." 

With  which  consolatory  last  hit  the  Marquis  shut  the 


jlxiz,  JLakquis's  tactics.  139 

door,  and  went  down  stairs  to  liis  brougham,  while  St. 
Albans,  dropping  the  mouthpiece  of  his  hookah,  dropped 
his  head  on  his  hands  with  a  bitter  sigh: 

"  If  she  doesn't  win  I  shall  be  ruined.  What  a  fool 
I  have  been  to  mesh  myself  in  such  a  net  of  debts  and 
entanglements !  How  I  shall  got  out  of  them,  God 
knows  !  And  now  he  wants  me  to  patch  up  my  for- 
tunes by  marriage.  Avarina  Sansreproche !  Faugh ! — 
the  Queen's  Bench  were  better  than  that.  He  is  right — 
I  am  going  to  the  dogs,  and  dragging  others  with  me  too. 
By  Jove !  if  he  knew  all,  poor  old  fellow,  it  would  bring 
on  a  fit,  or  he  would  console  himself  by  cutting  me  in 
Pali-Mall.  I  can't  go  on  long  like  this;  yet  Heaven 
knows  what  I  had  better  do.  Marry  Avarina  Sansre- 
proche !     Faugh !" 

His  rooms  were  the  most  luxurious  of  any  in  the  Al- 
bany, or  in  any  bachelor  house  in  town;  his  breakfast 
was  served  in  a  silver  and  Dresden  service  fit  for  a  young 
princess;  piles  of  rose,  green,  and  cream-hued  little 
note3,  and  a  swarm  of  invitation-cards  to  all  the  best 
houses,  lay  on  his  writing-table;  he  belonged  to  the  best 
set,  drove  the  best  horses,  and  was  a  member  of  the  best 
clubs  in  London;  but  for  all  that  St.  Albans,  as  he  leant 
his  head  on  his  hands,  with  a  very  real  and  unmistakable 
sigh,  and  dropped  the  languid,  bored,  leger  tone  he  had 
used  about  his  difficulties  to  his  father,  had  about  as 
much  worry  just  then  on  his  shoulders  as  any  man 
going  in  London. 

"Marry!"  he  said  to  himself,  picking  up  his  hookah 
again.  "  What  on  earth  put  that  into  his  head  ?  What's 
the  time — one?  I'll  order  the  tilbury,  and  go  and  see 
her  again." 

"  I  want  Cyril  to  marry,"  said  Lord  Glen,  that  same 
moment,  in  one  of  the  windows  of  the  Conservative,  to 


110  THE   ilARQUIs's  TACTICS. 

me.  Having  been  at  Eaton  with  St.  Ablans  and  his  elder 
brother,  Faineant,  I  had  often  spent  the  holidays  with 
them  when  a  boy,  and  parts  of  the  vacations  when  we 
were  all  together  at  Granta,  and  often  g3  down  in  Sep- 
tember to  the  Marquis's  first-rate  battues,  or  to  stalk  red 
deer  in  his  forest  of  Glen- Albans — "  I  want  him  to  marry : 
you're  a  good  deal  with  him,  do  your  best  to  persuade 
him,  there's  a  good  fellow." 

"  You  want  him  to  marry,  sir  ?  What  for,  in  the  name 
of  Heaven  ?  St.  Albans  is  the  last  man  in  the  world  to 
suit  that  sort  of  harness,  and  I  thought  you " 

"Were  the  last  man  to  advocate  it?  Of  course  I  am. 
At  the  same  time,  if  you're  going  to  the  deuce,  you  must 
put  on  any  drag  that'U  keep  the  wrecks  from  going  down 
hill,  must  you  not?  You  know  Cyril's  extravagance  as 
well  as  I  do.  The  best  thing  in  the  world  would  be  for 
him  to  marry  well,  and  the  alliance  I  desire  for  him,  is 
Avarina  Sansreproche.  I  have  reason  to  believe,  too, 
that  Lady  Turquoise  is  as  inclined  to  the  arrangement  as 
myself.  Nothing  can  be  more  suitable.  She  is  three- 
and-twenty,  eminently  good  style " 

"As  cold  as  a  statue,  sir!" 

The  Marquis  took  a  pinch  out  of  his  enamelled  taba- 
tiere,  with  a  picture  of  Clara  dTsche  by  Mignard. 

"  The  most  desirable  thing  a  wife  can  be.  She  will  not 
fall  in  love  with  other  men." 

"  But  not  at  all  fit  for  Cyril !" 

"  I  hardly  apprehend  you.  Fit  for  him  ?  I  am  no; 
asking  them  to  raffole  of  each  other — he  is  a  man  of  the 
world,  she  is  a  woman  of  good  sense — I  merely  want 
them  to  marry.  I  think  she  is  admirably  fitted  for  Cyrd, 
ne  vous  en  deplaise.  She  has  good  blood,  great  fortunet 
he  would  be  exigeant,  indeed,  to  ask  more." 


THE  MARQUIS'S  TACTICS.  141 

"Perhaps;  for  all  that,  sir,  I  doubt  if  you  will  ever 
bring  St.  Albaus  round  to  think  with  you.  Mrs.  Sans- 
reproche  isn't  pretty  enough  to  please  him,  and  I  am  sure 
he  will  hate  being  tied,  however  light  you  may  make  his 
fetters." 

"  What  will  you  bet  me  that  I,  being  allowed  to  man- 
age it  as  I  find  best,  shall  see  Cyril  married  within — let 
me  see — I  will  say  by  the  end  of  the  season  ?" 

I  laughed  : 

"  Very  well,  sir.  I  don't  know  anything  about  it,  but  I 
wouldn't  mind  betting  you  a  pony  that  by  the  end  of  the 
season  you'll  see  no  such  thing.  My  dear  lord,  St.  Albans 
will  no  more  let  himself  be  married  than  I  shall." 

Lord  Glen  entered  the  wager  duly  in  his  mem. -book. 

"  You  will  lose,  my  good  fellow.  He  will  marry  when 
I  wish  him.  He  must.  He  lives  very  gaily  and  expen- 
sively. I  don't  expect  him  to  do  otherwise.  But  you 
know  he  has  nothing — we  anciens  pauvres  never  have; 
the  racaille  get  all  the  money  in  these  democratic  days. 
So  you  and  Bellaysse  tied  at  Hornsey-wood  yesterday  V 
you  shot  off  the  ties  early;  Delamere  told  me  the  sun  was 
so  in  your  eyes  you  could  hardly  mark  the  birds." 


n. 

HOW   THE    MARQUIS    BEGAN    THE    CAMPAIGN. 

"  What  the  deuce  were  you  doing  with  yourself  yester- 
day at  noon  ?  I  thought  you  never  went  out  before  two, 
and  I  positively  called  at  twelve,  because  I  particularly 
wanted  to  see  you,  and  Soames  said  you  wern't  at  home," 


142  the  marquis's  taotics. 

said  Lord  Glenallerton,  in  a  considerably  injured  tone, 
two  days  after  in  the  smoking-room  of  the  Guards'  Club. 

St.  Albans  dropped  his  eye-glass,  and  laid  down  the 
paper. 

"  My  dear  governor,  if  you  will  call  on  men  at  barba- 
rian hours,  you  must  expect  valets,  who  have  a  decent 
idea  of  the  blessings  of  slumber  and  jDeace,  to  tell  a  mild 
fib  in  their  master's  service.  You  don't  really  mean  you 
would  have  had  the  heart  to  get  me  up  at  noon,  do  you  ?" 

"  Certainly  I  should.  You  can  get  up  early  at  Glen- 
Albans  to  go  after  deer,  surely  you  can  get  up  early  in 
town  to  talk  to  me.  It  is  seldom  enough  I  want  the 
trouble  of  seeing  you.  But  your  man  said  positively  you 
were  out.  I  asked  him  if  he  meant  '  not  visible,'  and  he 
said  no,  you  were  not  at  home." 

"  Stupid  fool !'  said  Cyril,  sotto  voce,  as  he  took  his 
Manilla  out  of  his  mouth.  "  Bon  pere !  is  it  possible  I 
should  remember  so  far  back  as  yesterday  what  I  did  with 
myself '?  Be  reasonable !  I  have  lived — let  me  see — 
thirty-one,  thirty-two — iDOsitively  thirty-four  hours  since 
then!" 

The  Marquis  looked  at  him,  took  out  his  tabatiere,  and 
shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  You  can  leave  your  memory  behind  you  sometimes, 
my  good  fellow,  as  completely  and  conveniently  as  a 
bribed  witness  !  i"  don't  want  to  know  what  you  did  with 
yourself.  Heaven  forbid !  I  came  to  advise  you  to  hedge 
as  much  as  possible.  From  all  I  hear,  I  am  certain  Grey 
Royal  is  very  unsafe.  None  of  that  breed  ever  had  any 
pace  in  them  yet.  Listen  a  minute,  Cyril,  and  take  coun- 
sel, if  you  can."  With  which  he  dropped  his  voice,  and 
detailed  some  chronique  scandaleuse  of  the  unsoundness 
of  Grey  Royal,  second  favorite  for  the  Ascot  Cup,  which 
was  going  the  round  of  some  Turf  circles,  and  altering 


THE  MARQUIS'S   TACTICS.  143 

the  odds  at  the  rooms.  "  I  have  warned  you.  I  have 
said  my  last  -word  about  that  cursed  mare,"  said  the  Mar- 
quis as  he  rose.  "  You  will  come  to  my  house  to-night, 
Cyril?" 

"  Do  you  want  me  dreadfully  ?     Can't  you  let  me  off  ?" 

"No;  it  is  very  odd  if  you  cannot  spare  an  hour  to 
show  yourself  in  my  rooms.  I  do  not  choose  every  one 
in  town  should  be  seen  at  my  parties  but  you,  and  that 
my  sons  should  shun  my  house  alone  of  anybody  in  Lon- 
don. Faineant  is  abroad,  I  don't  speak  of  him  ;  and 
Julian  I  have  done  with  long  ago.  He  has  taken  up  the 
patriotic  and  philanthropic  clap-trap,  let  him  keep  to  it. 
It  is  so  excessively  low!  I  don't  know  what  we  should 
have  thought  in  the  Regency  of  men  who  ought  to  be 
gentlemen,  lecturing  as  if  they  were  the  drunken  cob- 
blers of  a  Methodist  gathering,  and  pottering  about 
Ragged  Schools  to  get  a  little  vulgar  toadying,  and  head- 
ing Social  movements  as  if  they  were  Chartists  or  Sen- 
sationists — it  is  so  horridly  low  all  that !  But  you,  you 
are  a  man  of  good  taste  and  good  breeding,  Cyril;  it 
hurts  me  that  you  should  never  be  seen  at  my  house." 

That  speech  was  quite  true.  If  Lord  Glen  likes  any- 
body it  is  his  second  son,  who  has  his  wit,  his  beauty, 
and  is,  as  the  Marquis  will  complacently  tell  us,  "  exactly 
what  I  was  forty  years  ago."  But  it  was  a  craftily  timed 
speech  for  all  that,  and  St.  Albans  fell  into  the  trap;  he 
looked  kindly  at  his  father,  and  drank  some  hock  and 
Seltzer. 

"  I'll  come,  governor!" 

"The  devil,  I  never  remembered  that  woman  !"  said 
St.  Albans,  under  his  breath,  on  the  top  of  the  staircase 
of  his  father's  house  in  Berkley  Square.  "  That's  what 
he  bothered  iue  to  come  here  for,  and  I  never  thought  of 
her!" 


144  TIIE  MARQUIS'S  TACTICS. 

I  followed  his  glance,  which  was  though  the  doorway, 
into  the  Marquis's  salons,  where  all  the  creme  de  la 
creme  were  gathering  and  commingling;  and  there,  among 
other  Belgraviennes,  I  saw  Avarina  Sansreproche,  the 
subject  of  the  Marquis's  diplomacy  and  my  wager,  the 
future  Lady  Cyril  St.  Albans,  and  sole  heiress  prospective 
to  her  mother's  barony  of  Turquoise  and  Malachite.  She 
was  what  we  call  by  complaisance  a  fine  girl  :  she  was 
not  handsome  or  interesting,  or  brilliant,  but  she  was 
clever,  dressed  well,  of  course,  and  was  eminently  good 
style,  as  Lord  Glen  averred  ;  she  was  very  cold  in  man- 
ner, and  rumor  said  of  not  the  sweetest  temper;  but  she 
had  a  distinguished  air,  looked  indisputably  an  aristocrat 
(an  inestimable  pleasure  in  these  days  of  trademade 
heiresses  and  parvenues  chatelaines,)  and  from  her 
height  and  figure  told  well  in  a  ball-room. 

Altogether,  considering  how  good  an  alliance  she  would 
be,  she  was  not  a  woman  to 'merit  the  disdainful  and  dis- 
gusted tone  with  which  St  Albans  murmured  his  uncom- 
plimentary words  on  the  staircase  as  he  caught  sight  of 
her  at  his  father's  ball,  which  made  me  smile  as  I  heard 
them,  to  think  how  little  likely  the  Marquis  was  to  win 
his  bet,  and  shackle  his  son  with  matrimonial  handcuffs 
with  all  his  skill  at  diplomacy,  and  his  Eochefoucauldean 
knowledge  of  men  and  their  weaknesses. 

Avarina  looked  very  well  that  night,  and  her  mother 
smiled  her  most  gracious  smile  when  St.  Albans  drew 
near  thsm,  and  stopped  to  say  a  few  words  to  them  be- 
fore passing  on.  True,  the  future  Baroness  might  have 
looked  for  an  elder  rather  than  a  younger  son,  but  the 
St.  Albans  were  one  of  the  oldest  and  noblest  houses  in 
the  Peerage.  A  cadet  of  that  family  was  preferable  to 
the  head  of  many  others,  and  Lord  Grlenallerton  was 
leader  in  the  Upper  House  of  that  ^reat  political  party 


tiie  marquis's  tactics.  145 

to  which  Lady  Turquoise,  as  vehement  an  intriguer  as 
Madame  de  Longueville  or  the  Duchess  of  Devonshire, 
belonged  heart  and  soul.     Cyril  was  his  favorite  son;  he 
did  not  care  about  Faineant,  who  was  plain,  like  la  feue 
Marquise,  and  had  never  been  in  his  good  graces  for  that 
reason,  the  Marquis  rating  beauty  as  highly  as  any  wo- 
man.    His  third  son,  Julian,  he  had,  as  he  said,  done 
with  long  ago,  Julian  being  member  for  Bottleborough, 
and  taking  a  utilitarian  view  and  educating-of-the-masses 
line,  which  was  naturally  the  antipodes  of  his  predilec- 
tions, and  disgusted  him  too  much  for  remonstrance;  but 
Cyril  always  pleased  him:  his  manner,  his  air,  his  tastes, 
his  person,  his  way  of  life,  were  all  in  accordance  with 
his  views  of  what  a  gentleman  and  a  St.  Albans  ought  to 
be.     Cyril  was  his  favorite  son,  and  therefore  did  he  and 
Lady  Turquoise  tacitly  agree — perhaps,  even,  in  a  little 
boudoir  conference,  admit  to  each  other  their  agreement 
— in  the  choice  of  an  alliance  for  Avarina. 

"  Cyril,  you  entreated  me  to  be  your  envoy,  and  I  have 
had  the  happiness  to  succeed  in  raj  embassy.  Miss  Sans- 
reproche  has  done  you  the  honor  to  reserve  you  a  place 
on  her  tablets,"  said  that  clever  old  lord,  with  that  gal- 
lant grace  of  air  which  had  gained  him  so  many  bonnes 
fortunes,  and  won  him  so  brilliant  a  reputation  in  the  old 
Eegency   days   with  Alvanly  and  Pierrepont.     Men   of 
condition,  as  Walter  Scott  says,  never  show  what  they 
feel,  let  them  be  startled,  bewildered,  or  dismayed  as  they 
may,  or,  for  a  certainty,  St.  Albans  would  have  shown  his 
amazement  at  his  father's  adroit  invention.     "  For  a  lie 
gracefully   told,    commend   me    to    the    governor !"    he 
thought,  as,  bon  gre  mal  gre,  he  bowed  his   thanks   to 
Avarina  for  an  honor  he  had  certainly  been  most  inno- 
cent of  soliciting. 

Cootes  and  Tinney's  band  were  playiug  the  Dinorah 
7 


146  THE   MAEQUIS'S   TACTICS. 

Quadrilles,  and  he  had  to  give  her  his  arm  and  lead  her 
to  the  ball-room,  let  in  for  it  as  neatly  as  any  man  could 
be,  while  the  Marquis  stroked  a  little  moth  off  his  Blue 
Riband  with  an  inward  smile  of  complacency.  His  first 
minor  move  in  diplomacy  had  succeeded,  and  perhaps 
St.  Albans,  though  it  bored  him  just  then,  would  thank 
him  afterwards.  When  one  is  drowning,  one  is  grateful 
to  anybody  that  flings  us  a  rope,  however  tarred  and 
rough  a  one. 

"Hallo,  old  fellow,  you  are  leaving  early.  Avarina 
Sansreproche  won't  be  flattered,  will  she?"  siiid  I,  as 
about  an  hour  afterwards,  having  three  or  four  other 
places  to  go  to  that  night,  I  left  Lord  Glen's,  and  met 
St.  Albans  just  going  to  his  cab. 

"Avarina  Sansreproche  be  hanged!"  said  he,  between 
his  teeth,  as  he  stopped  to  light  a  Manilla.  "  Marry 
merely  for  money — buy  freedom  from  my  difficulties  with 
that  girl's  gold — how  low  my  father  must  think  that  I 
have  sunk!  Live  on  your  wife's  money!  Good  God, 
what  lower  degradation  could  there  be  ?" 

"Lots  of  men  do  it,  though,  old  fellow,  and  think  it 
none,  when  there's  no  better  way  of  clearing  themselves 
out  of  their  difficulties." 

"Exactly,"  said  St.  Albans,  in  his  ordinary  languid 
tone,  with  his  pec  semi-yawn,  semi-sigh;  "But,  my  good 
Hervey,  only  think  of  the  horror  of  having  to  hear  set- 
tlements read,  and  the  worry  of  going  through  the  mar- 
riage ceremony !  It's  far  better  of  the  two  to  go  to  the 
do  jo  quietly  and  gently,  in  a  pleasant  way,  than  to  put 
the  matrimonial  drag  on  the  wheels,  and  avoid  Cer- 
berus only  to  fall  into  the  hug  of  Hecate.  I've  no  sera- 
pies  about  anything,  except  about  worrying  myself.  I 
d  >n't  care  how  low  I  sink,  but  you  must  please  line  the 
pit  with  rose-leaves.     I  wouldn't  mind  selling  myself  to 


THE   MARQUIS'S   TACTICS.  147 

the  devil  at  all  if  that  gentleman  were  in  that  style  of 
trade  now,  and  paid  handsomely,  but  I  couldn't  sell  my- 
self to  a  wife — indeed  I  couldn't;  marriage  is  an  awful 
price  to  pay  for  a  little  monetary  security.  Fancy  a  wo- 
man who'd  think  she  had  a  right  over  you,  and  who'd 
persist  in  bothering  you,  and  lecturing  you,  and  ferreting 
out  where  you  went !  It's  better  to  give  Leoni  Levi  cent, 
per  cent,  than  to  go  through  the  ennui  of  a  honeymoon. 
Fancy  doing  rural  felicity,  and  raptures,  and  all  the  rest 
of  it,  and  having  to  make  love  to  the  same  woman  one 
whole  month  long !  I'd  rather  go  to  a  Neapolitan  prison. 
Why,  a  week  of  it,  Hervey,  would  kill  you  or  me.  Mil- 
ner,  drive  as  fast  as  you  can,"  said  St.  Albans,  flinging 
his  fusee  into  the  gutter,  and  getting  into  his  Hansom. 

"  Are  you  going  to  La  Bonbonniere's  ?  If  you  are,  we 
can  go  together." 

"  La  Bonbonniere's !     No.     I  rarely  go  there  now." 

"  What  the  deuce  for  ?     Have  you  quarrelled  ?" 

The  Comtesse  de  la  Bonbonniere  was  a  very  charming 
little  woman,  and  St.  Albans  had  found  no  boudoir  so 
attractive,  and  no  opera  suppers  so  agreeable  as  those  in 
her  Section  of  the  French  embassy. 

"  Quarrelled?  Jamais !  But  we  raffoled  of  each  other 
last  season;  it's  in  the  nature  of  things  that  we're  tired 
of  one  another  this !     Good  night.     Drive  fast,  Milner  !" 

"  Where  to,  my  Lord  ?" 

"To  Richmond!" 

His  Hansom  dashed  round  the  corner  at  a  pace  that 
might  have  won  a  trotting-match,  and  I  got  into  my  own 
cab,  and  drove  off  to  a  ball  at  Carlton  House  Terrace, 
thinking  to  myself  that,  with  Cyril's  views  on  marriage, 
the  old  lord,  with  all  his  diplomacy,  was  not  very  likely 
to  win  his  bet,  and  persuade  his  son  to  enter  the  holy 
bond,    St.   Albans  being   about   the  last  man   in   town 


1-48  the  marquis's  tactics. 

to  assume  the  matrimonial  fetters,  or  endure  them  -when 
they  were  on.  He  was  a  man  sworn  to  pleasure,  and  to 
pleasure  alone;  he  led  a  gay,  laissez-faire,  agreeable,  ex- 
travagant life;  was  a  leader  of  fashion,  and  a  referee  at 
clubs;  hated  worry,  loved  luxury,  was  utterly  unused  to 
any  restrictions,  and  was,  en  un  mot,  the  very  last  sort 
of  man  to  be  coaxed,  driven,  coerced,  propelled,  or  led  in 
any  way  into  the  shackles  Lord  Glen  proposed  for  him. 
But  great  is  the  might  of  money,  and  when  you  have 
Queen's  Bench  on  one  side  of  you,  and  Hanover  Square 
on  the  other,  there  is  no  knowing  v:hat  you  may  do,  mon 
ami,  or  which  of  the  evils  you  may  fancy  the  lesser;  so, 
with  all  the  odds  in  my  favor,  I  hardly  felt  sure  of  win- 
ning the  bet  I  had  made  in  the  Conservative. 

"  You  must  marry,  Cyril,"  said  old  Glen  imperatively,  as 
meeting  St.  Albans  in  St.  .James's  Street  the  next  morn- 
ing between  two  and  three  he  walked  down  there  with  him. 

"  Aly  dear  governor,  so  we  must  all  die,  but  the  obliga- 
tion isn't  an  agreeable  one;  why  refer  to  it  ?  Positively, 
you're  as  cruel  as  a  priest  laying  the  skull  and  cross- 
bones  right  on  the  top  of  one's  rose  chaplets.  The  idea 
of  bringing  up  horrid  topics  on  a  cool  pleasant  Alay 
morning  like  this !"  answered  St.  Albans,  stroking  his 
moustaches. 

The  Marquis  gave  a  little  growl  and  a  contemptuous 
sneer. 

"I  thought  you  were  a  man  of  the  world." 

"  Bid  you  ?  Far  from  it.  I'm  the  most  innocent  and 
unsophisticated  person;  no  man  more  so,  but  merit's  al- 
ways misjudged." 

Lord  Glen  gave  a  short  laugh  of  amusement,  as  well 
he  might. 

"  I  thought  you  were  a  man  of  the  world,  too  much  of 
one  not  to  know  that  such  a  very  unimportant  step  as 


THE   MABQUIS'S  TACTICS.  149 

marriage  can  matter  nothing  in  our  ranks.  If  your  wife 
be  in  a  bad  temper,  you  have  nothing  to  do  but  to  leave 
her;  if  she  begin  a  quarrel,  go  and  dine  at  White's  or 
the  Guards';  if  she  bother  you  very  much,  have  a  sepa- 
rate establishment.  You  are  not  like  a  man  of  the  mid- 
dle class  with  a  limited  income,  resting  on  a  clientele 
who  viser  all  his  actions,  and  would  desert  him  if  he 
tried  to  get  a  little  liberty,  or  openly  infringed  their  pet 
clap-trap  of  the  domesticities.  We,  thank  Heaven!  have 
plenty  of  amusement,  and  don't  want  that  very  tame 
substitute,  domestic  happiness.  "We've  cognac  and  Clic- 
quot, and  leave  that  weak  tea  to  the  poor  devils  who 
can't  get  anything  better.  Be  sensible,  Cyril;  of  all  the 
married  men  we  know,  on  which  of  them  has  his  wife 
any  influence  ?  Which  of  them  allows  her  to  trouble 
him  the  least?  Of  course  not;  he  is  in  the  world,  she  is 
in  the  world;  they  go  their  own  ways,  and  neither  troubles 
the  other.  So  will  you  and  Avarina;  she  is  far  too  sensi- 
ble a  woman  to  want  a  lover's  devotion  from  you,  or  any 
of  that  nonsense;  you  may  keep  it  for  Madame  de  la  Bon- 
bonniere;  she  is  a  Frenchwoman,  and  likes  sentiment.  I 
perfectly  understand  your  reluctance:  you  are  a  man  of 
pleasure,  naturally  you  dislike  anything  that  may  inter- 
fere with  or  limit  your  pleasure,  but,  believe  me,  in  sev- 
enty-eight years  I  have  seen  a  little  of  life,  Cyril;  mar- 
riage will  not  make  the  slightest  difference  to  you;  you 
will  live  in  Belgrave  Square  instead  of  the  Albany,  that 
is  all."  St.  Albans  listened  and  walked  on  in  silence. 
"You  must  marry,"  reiterated  the  Marquis.  "Grey 
Royal  has  no  more  pace  in  her  than  a  cab-horse;  what 
could  possess  you,  my  dear  boy,  to  venture  so  much  on 
that  miserable  chestnut  ?" 

St.  Albans  drew  his  breath  hard,  and  turned  paler  for 
a  second. 


150  THE  MARQUIS'S   TACTICS. 

"You  recommend  ine  to  marry,  governor?"  he  said, 
after  a  pause. 

"  I  do,  most  decidedly." 

"Very  well,  I'll  think  about  it;  don't  worry  me  any 
more,"  said  St.  Albans,  languidly.  "Faugh!  how  that 
fellow  that  passed  us  was  scented  with  musk  !  Are  you 
going  into  White's  ?     I  am." 


in. 

HOW   LORD     GLEN     CONGRATULATED     HIMSELF     ON     HIS    VICTORY. 

I  have  always  liked  the  Marquis  myself;  he  has  no 
deep  feelings  to  trouble  him,  he  is  an  egotistical  and 
worldly  old  gentleman;  he  sometimes  tilts  with  the  most 
amiable  vr consciousness  against  your  tenderest  wounds, 
and  makes  you  writhe  without  ever  noticing  it;  but  I 
always  liked  him,  always  shall;  he  is  very  clever,  very 
amusing,  ever  good  natured,  ever  hospitable,  and  is  as 
fond  of  his  second  son,  in  his  own  way,  as  he  could  be  of 
any  one.  I  should  be  very  glad  if  anybody  would  tell  me 
why  novelists  always  fancy  it  necessary  to  make  their 
characters  either  good  or  bad,  quite  one  or  quite  the 
other;  the  majority  of  people  about  in  the  world  are,  it 
seems  to  me,  neither  the  one  nor  the  other  exclusively, 
but  a  mixture  of  both,  as  the  Mocha  your  valet  brings 
you  up  in  the  morning  is  coffee  and  chicory  equally 
mixed.  Five  people  out  of  six  have  no  marked  charac- 
ters at  all,  and  the  generahty  one  meets  could  neither  be 
taxed  with  any  remarkable  vice  nor  honored  for  any  re- 
markable virtue;  they  would  ruin  your  peace  with  their 


THE    MARQUIS  S   TACTICS. 


151 


malice,  but  would  not  touch  you  with  a  dagger  for  the 
world,  and  are  capable  neither  of  a  positively  noble  ac- 
tion nor  of  a  positively  bad  one.  You  must  have  force 
of  character  for  the  extreme  of  both  good  and  evil. 
Half  the  people  in  society  are  like  my  friend  Lord  Glen, 
who  would  have  been  insulted,  no  person  more  so,  had 
you  asked  him  to  do  anything  dishonorable;  but  could 
see  nothing  degrading  in  the  advice  he  gave  his  son,  hon- 
estly thinking  it  was  the  best  St.  Albans  could  receive 
and  follow,  to  make  a  rich  marriage,  that  he  might  quiet 
his  creditors  now,  and  live  on  his  wife's  money  after- 
wards. 

"  I  shall  win,  my  dear  fellow,"  said  he  to  me  at  a  morn- 
ing party  at  Fulham,  as  he  stood  stirring  the  cream  in  a 
cup  of  Souchong  under  a  great  chestnut-tree  on  the  lawn, 
where  our  band  was  playing  Trovatore  airs  and  new- 
waltzes,  and  we  were  eating  Neapolitan  ices,  flirting,  and 
playing  croquet  or  lawn  billiards  with  some  hundred  or 
so  of  our  kind  in  the  grounds  of  Lady  Rosediamond's 
bijou  of  a  dower-house.  I  followed  his  glance,  which 
was  to  where  Avarina  sat,  looking  more  animated  than 
usual,  and  talking  to  St.  Albans. 

"Do  you  think  so,  sir?  I  hope  not.  Tin's  the  best 
of  all  blessings,  Heaven  knows,  but,  my  dear  lord,  he's 
the  last  fellow  in  the  world  to  be  put  into  the  bondage 
of  marriage,  even  for  that.  The  idea  of  St.  Albans  mar- 
ried!" 

"I  was  just  such  a  man  as  Cyril  at  his  age,  and  /mar- 
ried, but  I  can  assure  you  I  made  the  fetters  so  light  I 
did  not  know  I  wore  them.  Any  sensible  man  may,  if 
he  likes.  Cyril  will  marry  Avarina,  my  dear  Hervey, 
and  will  thank  me  very  much  for  having  made  him  the 
alliance.  I  knew  I  shoidd  bring  him  round  to  my  views; 
he   is   a   sensible  fellow,   really,    though  he  has   a  few 


152  the  marquis's  tactics. 

strange  Quixotic  ideas,  like  those  about  his  election.  I 
cannot  imagine  where  he  has  got  them;  the  St.  Albans 
were  never  romantic,  nor  the  Dormers  either,  and  ro- 
mance is  such  a  very  queer  thing  to  linger  in  a  man  who 
has  lived  as  my  son  has  done.  He  will  many  Avarina, 
mon  gargon,  and  I  am  very  glad  of  it — very  glad."  And 
the  Marquis  finished  his  tea,  and  turned  to  Lady  Rose- 
diamonds  in  the  best  possible  spirits  at  the  coming  suc- 
cess of  his  diplomacy. 

"  Dine  with  me  to-night,  Hervey  ?"  he  ashed,  when  the 
haute  vol  tie,  as  the  journals  called  us  next  day,  was  dis- 
persed, and  Avarina  and  her  mother  were  rolling  back  to 
Belgravia.     "  And  you,  Cyril  ?" 

"  I,  sir  ?"  said  St.  Albans.  "  Thank  you,  no.  I'm  en- 
gaged for  this  evening." 

"Ah  !  no  doubt;  where  to,  may  I  ask  ?" 

I  dare  say  Lord  Glen  had  a  fond  hope  that  the  answer 
would  be  "Wilton  Crescent,  but  it  wasn't;  it  was  brief 
enough:  "Richmond." 

"  Richmond  ?  A  man  dinner,  or  a  boating  party,  or 
what  ?  You  are  always  dining  at  Richmond,  it  seems  to 
me;  you  were  there  on  Monday,  and  yesterday  too;  with 
all  the  best  houses  in  town  open  to  you,  I  wonder  you 
take  the  trouble  to  go  all  the  way  down  there  with  a  few 
men,  or  a  few  danseuses.  Yesterday  you  threw  over  the 
Duchess's  dinner  for  some  Richmond  affair.  I  have  no 
business  with  what  you  do  with  yourself,  of  course,  but 
it  is  unhke  you,  and  bad  taste,  you  are  generally  so  very 
difficile.  "Won't  you  be  back  in  time  for  Protocol's  re- 
ception to-night  ?" 

St.  Albans  shook  his  head: 

"  My  dear  governor,  why  should  I  go  to  Protocol's  ? 
The  atmosphere  will  be  at  70  deg.  I  should  be  crushed 
comme  d'ordinaire,  and  I  should  only  reach  the  green 


THE   MARQUIS'S  TACTICS.  153 

drawing-room  and  the  Countess  after  three  hours'  steady- 
toil.  I've  done  so  many  of  these  things,  please  don't 
ask  me;  my  health's  too  delicate  to  stand  the  fatigues  of 
an  assembly  just  yet  again." 

"  Very  odd,"  said  Lord  Glen  to  himself,  as  St.  Albans 
drove  off  nodding  a  good-by  to  his  father.  "Last  sea- 
son Cyril  was  at  every  reception  in  town;  he  is  surely 
never  losing  his  taste  for  good  society  !" 

I  don't  suppose  the  Marquis  liked  Avarina  Sansre- 
proche,  as  he  had  a  special  contempt  for  any  but  very 
lovely  women,  save  for  matrimonial  alliances.  The  St. 
Albans  women  and  men  are  a  family  of  great  beauty, 
and  have  been  famed  for  it  for  many  generations;  and 
Lord  Glen  sets  the  greatest  possible  store  on  it,  both  in 
himself  and  others,  therefore  I  don't  suppose  he  had  any 
particular  admiration  for  his  future  daughter-in-law;  but 
if  he  made  love  for  himself  in  the  Regency  days  half  so 
gracefully  and  gallantly  as  he  now  made  it  for  his  son, 
the  reputation  he  won  when  he  was  Viscount  Faineant 
was  not  to  be  wondered  at.  And  if  St.  Albans  was 
rather  lax  in  his  courtship,  the  Marquis  did  his  best  to 
cover  and  make  up  for  his  short-comings.  St.  Albans, 
though  I  suppose  reconciled,  was  hardly  as  enchanted  as 
his  father;  I  fancied,  now  and  then,  there  came  over  his 
face  a  look  of  genuine  worry;  and  he  was  less  in  society 
than  usual,  which,  considering  he  was  a  man  whom  you 
met  everywhere  each  season,  and  lived  in  the  highest 
and  gayest  mondes,  was  only  traceable  to  one  cause  not 
complimentary  to  Miss  Sansreproclle — that  he  did  not 
care  to  have  more  of  her  society  than  he  was  forced,  till 
he  was  linked  to  her  for  life.  But  Avarina  bore  it  hero- 
ically; she  went  on  her  ways  showing  herself  with  her 
equable  grace  of  manner  at  concerts,  and  dinners,  balls, 
and  dejeimers.  She  was  evidently,  as  Lord  Glen  said,  a 
7* 


15-1  THE   MAEQUIS'S   TACTICS. 

sensible  woman,  who  neither  gave  nor  expected  any  ro- 
mantic nonsense;  and  though  she  smiled  pleasantly 
when  she  and  St.  Albans  met  in  the  Ride  or  at  the  Opera, 
or  any  of  the  numerous  balls,  dinners,  and  assemblies,  she 
smiled  just  as  pleasantly  at  me,  or  at  the  old  Duchess  of 
Lapislazuli,  or  at  her  terrier  Azor.  She  did  not  seem  to 
want  St.  Albans's  attention,  which  was  particularly  lucky, 
for  he  did  not  seem  inclined  to  pay  it,  but  let  that  pait 
of  the  affair  devolve  on  his  father.  The  rumor  of  their 
engagement  got  among  the  on  dits  of  town,  and  one 
morning,  in  the  Conservative,  I  read,  among  other  fash- 
ionable intelligence,  "  It  is  rumored  that  a  matrimonial 
alliance  is  projected  between  Lord  Cyril  St.  Albans,  sec- 
ond son  of  the  Most  Hon.  the  Marquis  of  Glenallerton, 
and  the  Hon.  Avarina  Sansreproche,  only  daughter  and 
sole  heir  of  the  Baroness  of  Turquoise  and  Malachite 
and  the  late  Hon.  George  Sansreproche."  The  old  lord 
standing  by  me  pointed  to  the  paragraph,  smiled,  and 
took  out  his  enamelled  box. 

"  Mon  garcon,  never  bet  with  an  old  diplomatist !" 

"  The  deuce,  sir !  Is  it  une  affaire  accomplie, 
then  ?" 

"Of  course!" 

The  Marquis  gave  me  a  glance  that  said:  "Do  you 
suppose  anything  /undertook  could  fail  to  be?" 

"  Has  St.  Albans  positively  proposed  to  her  ?" 

"  Proj)Osed  ?  No,  I  believe  not;  but  the  affair  is  quite 
arranged,  and  perfectly  understood  by  every  one.  Lacly 
Turquoise  and  I " 

"  Then  there  is  no  hope  for  him  ?" 

"No/ear,  you  mean,  becasse  !  No,  the  marriage  is  as 
certain  as  if  it  had  already  taken  place,  and  it  will  be  the 
best  step  of  his  life." 

"  Well,  sir,  I  hope  it  may  but,  on  my  life,  for  St.  Al- 


THE   MARQUIS'S   TACTICS.  155 

bans  to  many  seems  as  bad  as  for  him  to  shoot  himself. 
He's  the  last  man  in  the  world " 

The  Marquis  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  tapped  his 
bos-lid  amusedly. 

"  You  men  of  the  present  generation  are  strange  fel- 
lows !  You  speak  of  a  good  alliance  made  from  social 
and  sensible  motives  as  dolefully  as  if  it  were  a  miserable, 
infatuated  love-match.  Cyril  will  marry,  and  wiU  thank 
me  very  much  for  my  advice.  I  told  you  I  should  win; 
there  was  never  any  doubt  about  it !" 

"  St.  Albans  was  sitting  in  the  bay-window  of  "White's 
half  an  hour  after,  when  I  went  there,  reading  the  morn- 
ing papers,  and,  as  his  eyes  fell  on  the  paragraph  that 
concerned  himself,  something  suspiciously  like  a  sneer 
went  over  his  face.  I  suppose  he  thought  it  was  an  an- 
nouncement of  his  own  sale,  similar  to  the  announce- 
ment of  the  sale  of  a  noble  and  costly  library  by  Christie 
and  Manson,  or  of  a  chestnut  two-year-old  by  Tattersall. 

"  So  you  are  really  going  in  for  marriage,  St.  Albans  ?" 
said  Brabazon  of  the  2nd  Life  Guards. 

St.  Albans  looked  up  for  a  moment,  as  if  he  were  pos- 
itively startled  by  the  very  innocent  and  natural  query; 
then  he  yawned  behind  his  paper,  stroked  his  moustaches, 
and  stretched  himself : 

"  My  good  follow,  if  I  were  going  to  be  hanged  to- 
morrow, would  you  think  it  good  taste  to  remind  me  of 
my  doom?" 

"  By  George  !  I  wish  Avarina  heard  you.  Is  that  par- 
agraph true?  You  married!  Jupiter!  who  will  credit 
it !  You're  a  fit  fellow  to  take  matrimonial  vows,  cer- 
tainly. Your  wife  will -little  know  what  a  Tartar  she 
Las  caught,  if  she  heard  some  stories  /  could  tell  her!" 

St.  Albans  smiled  a  little: 

"  Even  if  you  did,  Charlie,  I  would  bet  you  my  wife 


156  THE   MAKQUIS'S   TACTICS. 

would  like  me  better,  with  all  my  faults,  than  any  man 
(if  there  be  one)  without  any  at  all.  My  dear  fellow, 
you  forget  you  talk  to  the  ni03t  attractive  man  in  town." 

He  spoke  the  first  words  half  sadly,  but  the  last  in 
his  own  leger,  languid  way,  with  a  gay  laugh.  Braba- 
zon  laughed  too,  and  began  to  talk  of  the  latest  odds 
taken  for  the  Ascot  Cup  next  week. 

"  Grey  Royal  hasn't  a  chance  with  Coronation  and 
Beau  Sire;  she'll  never  win.  I  never  knew  one  of  the 
Capel  Caradoc's  horses  that  did,"  said  "Wyndham,  con- 
temptuously. 

"  Grey  Royal !  I  believe  you.  She's  a  clever-looking 
little  mare,  but  she  wouldn't  win  the  Consolation  Scram- 
ble," added  Tom  Vane.  "  She'll  let  you  in  heavily,  St. 
Albans,  take  my  word. 

St.  Albans  laughed: 

Very  likely.  Most  things  feminine  betray  confidence, 
whether  equine  or  human.  But  I'm  resigned.  Where's 
the  good  of  worrying?  It  never  makes  anything  better; 
there's  nothing  worth  vexing  oneself  about  under  the 
sun;  it  only  makes  lines  in  your  forehead,  and  spoils 
your  good  looks.  The  governor's  an  Epicurean,  and  so 
am  I;  we  never  bother  ourselves;  if  things  go  smoothly, 
well  and  good;  if  they  don't,  we  turn  our  backs  on  them." 

"  What  a  lucky  dog  that  is,"  said  Brabazon  to  me,  as 
St.  Albans  went  out  of  "White's.  "  Nothing  troubles 
him;  his  life's  one  long  lounge  of  delicious  far  niente, 
except,  I  suppose,  he's  deep  with  the  Jews;  but  if  they 
know  he's  going  to  marry  into  such  a  lot  of  tin  as  the 
Sansreproches,  they'll  let  him  alone  fast  enough." 

St.  Albans  went  home  to  the  Albany,  drank  down  some 
iced  water  and  sherry,  and  threw  himself  into  an  ecarte 
chair,  worry  enoiigh  on  him,  now  that  he  was  alone  and 
could  give  reins  to  it. 


THE   MARQUIS'S   TACTICS.  157 

"  By  Heaven !  if  that  mare  only  wins  I  will  never  bet 
again,  I  swear.  If  she  lose,  I  must  sell  my  horses  and 
everything  available,  pay  the  debts  of  honor  as  best  I 
may,  and  leave  England.  My  father  is  right:  I  live  at 
the  rate  of  a  man  with  thirty  thousand  a  year,  and  if  I 
lose  on  that  race,  God  knows  what  I  am  to  do  !  And  I 
have  drawn  her  into  my  fate  as  well,  poor  child !  She 
loves  me:  she  would  risk,  do,  endure  anything  on  earth 
for  me.  But  she  knows  nothing  of  the  world;  she  little 
dreams  what  it  is  for  a  man  of  pleasure  to  have  ruin 
stare  him  in  the  face,  and  threaten  to  rob  him  of  all  his 
luxuries,  pleasures,  appliances,  all  he  values,  even  per- 
haps to  his  good  name.  Poverty,  I  verily  believe,  would 
be  bearable  to  her  with  me;  but,  God  help  her!  I  am 
too  spoiled  by  the  world  to  reach  her  standard,  or  learn 
her  unselfishness." 

The  other  night,  amis  lecteurs,  while  we  of  the  West 
were  waltzing  and  flirting,  dining  and  laughing,  in  the 
East  the  great  fire  was  raging,  and  Death  was  busy  at 
his  work.  While  we  of  Belgravia  and  May-fair  were 
talking  and  laughing  at  White's,  and  the  Guards',  and 
the  National,  drinking  claret  and  Clicquot  at  a  hundred 
dinners,  waltzing  young  beauties  round  a  hundred  ball- 
rooms, dashing  through  the  lighted  streets  from  one  as- 
sembly to  another,  listening  to  the  swell  of  the  Hugue- 
nots overture,  and  the  farewell  cadence  of  Grisi's  song, 
in  the  city  the  vast  billows  of  flame  were  rolling  up  to 
the  stars,  scorching  the  calm  summer  night  with  their 
lurid  breath,  hissing  like  fiery  serpents  through  the 
doomed  roofs,  lashing  the  river  into  sheets  of  fire,  break- 
ing the  stillness  of  the  June  evening  with  bursts  like 
thunder,  and  clutching  human  life  into  their  fell  em- 
brace. How  vast  the  difference  that  night  between  the 
two  quarters  of  our  city,  close  as  they  lay  together — how 


158  the  marquis's  tactics. 

strange  the  glittering  gaiety  of  the  one,  the  interminable 
horror  of  the  other !  Bat  almost  as  vast,  almost  as 
strange  is  the  difference  between  the  outward  and  the  in- 
ward life  of  men,  the  life  that  is  for  society,  and  the  life 
that  is  for  solitude — the  calm,  the  nonchalance,  the  gai- 
ety that  we  see  in  the  one,  the  storm,  the  fury,  the  devas- 
tation that  may  rage,  unknown  to  us,  in  the  other. 


IV. 


HOW   OUR   BET   WAS   DRAWN. 

Ascot  week  came,  and  Grey  Royal  won  !  beating  Cor- 
onation, who  had  been  winner  of  the  Two  Thousand  the 
year  before,  and  Beau  Sire,  who  had  been  second  at  the 
Derby,  throwing  everybody  out  of  their  calculations, 
and  gaining  the  Red  Riband  of  the  Turf  for  Capel  Car- 
adoc;  giving  the  lie  to  all  her  foes'  predictions,  and 
proving  herself  worthy  of  her  few  staunch  friends'  trust, 
like  a  well-bred,  clever,  unpretending  little  chestnut  as 
she  was.  Grey  Royal  won,  and  so  by  her  did  St.  Albans. 
He  drove  me  down  on  the  Cup-day,  and  never  had  I 
seen  him  so  agitated  about  the  issue  of  a  race.  He 
always  betted  considerably,  and  always  took  his  gains 
or  his  losses  with  that  light  laissez-faire  philosophy  aris- 
ing from  the  mixture  in  his  character  of  generosity  and 
carelessness,  sweet  temper  and  indolence,  which  he  had 
practised  all  his  life;  but  that  day  it  deserted  him. 
He  was  very  pale;  he  looked  anxious  and  agitated;  and 
as  for  the  last  ten  yards  Coronation  and  Grey  Royal 
held  neck  by  neck  together,  I   heard  his   quick,  loud 


THE   MARQUIS'S   TACTICS.  159 

breathings,  that  told  how  much  was  at  stake  for  hini  on 
the  issue  of  the  race.  Grey  Royal  won,  the  Marquis 
was  fain  to  confess  he  had  been  in  the  wrong,  and  his 
son  looked  like  a  man  who  had  received  a  reprieve  from 
the  gallows  or  the  guillotine,  and  drove  us  back  to  town 
in  spirits  too  genuinely  gay  to  be  forced  or  assumed. 

"  So  that  chestnut  of  Caradoc's  won,  after  all !"  said  the 
Marquis  to  me  on  the  Heath.  "  I  am  glad  she  did.  I 
know  Cyril  had  risked  a  great  deal  of  money  upon  her, 
and  if  he  has  won  considerably  he  can  free  himself  of 
one  or  two  of  his  more  pressing  debts  before  his  mar- 
riage. But  I  dare  say  you  know  more  of  how  his  affairs 
stand  than  I  do." 

"  St.  Albans,  you  must  dine  with  us  at  the  Star  and 
Garter  to-morrow,"  said  Brabazon,  as  we  drove  home. 
"  You  must.  No,  hang  it !  we  won't  let  you  off,  will  we, 
Hervey  ?  You're  beginning  to  grow  unsociable.  That's 
what  comes  of  being  an  engaged  man,  or  next  door  to  it. 
There  won't  be  any  women,  so  Avarina,  can't  be  scandal- 
ized if  she  hears  of  it." 

St.  Albans  laughed. 

"My  dear  fellow,  I  shoiddn't  mind  scandalising  Miss 
Sansreproche  in  the  least." 

"As  a  preparatif  to  what  she'll  have  to  encounter 
afterwards,  eh?  Well,  that's  only  fair.  You'll  come 
then,  Cyril?  I'll  call  for  you  at  half-past  sir,  if  you 
like?" 

"Very  well,  do." 

He  didn't  seem  over  willing,  I  thought,  despite  the 
preference  his  father  had  accused  him  of  giving  to  Rich- 
mond dinners  over  private  ones.  Whether  he  was  or 
not,  however,  Biabazon  took  him  and  me  up  at  White's 
the  next  day,  and  the  Marquis  nodded  his  son  a  good- 
humored  adieu  from  the  bay  window. 


160  THE   MAEQUIS'S   TACTICS. 

"  Cyril  asked  me  what  time  lie  could  see  me  alone  to- 
morrow," he  thought,  complacently,  as  he  returned  to 
his  papers.  "  To  tell  me  he  has  proposed  to  Avarina,  no 
doubt !  Ah  !  adroit  management  always  succeeds.  It 
is  only  your  bunglers  who  fail — your  maladroits,  who 
push  the  thing  too  far,  or  do  not  push  it  far  enough." 

Brabazon's  dinner  was  a  very  pleasant  one.  He  had 
about  ten  or  a  dozen  men,  and  we  were  as  comfortable 
as  we  ever  are  when  we're  alone.  (Passez-moi  le  mot, 
mademoiselles;  ungallant  it  may  sound,  but  it  is  true, 
and  truth  is  so  very  great  a  rarity,  that  of  course  you 
value  it  as  you  do  green  roses,  pink  pearls,  old  point,  or 
any  other  exceptional  treasure. )  We  could  talk  what  we 
liked,  we  could  smoke  when  we  would,  we  had  not  to 
rake  up  current  chit-chat  for  Lady  Adeliza  nor  go 
through  an  examination  in  chamber-music  for  Miss  Con- 
certo; it  was  a  pleasant  dinner  from  the  hsh  to  the  move, 
which  did  not  inaugurate  the  exit  of  ladies,  but  the  en- 
trance of  coffee,  and  a  lounge  at  the  windows  to  scent 
the  honeysuckles  and  diink  iced  waters. 

"  Hervey,"  said  Brabazon,  suddenly,  "  do  you  remem- 
ber that  girl  we  saw  as  we  came  back  from  Teller's 
boating  party?  You  do!  Well,  I  told  you,  didn't  I,  I'd 
find  out  something  about  her  ?  I  sent  Evans  down  to 
inquire  what  he  couM,  but  he's  such  a  stupid  fool,  he 
only  brought  me  word  that  the  house  was  called  Brooke 
Lodge,  as  if  I  cared  a  hang  for  the  name  of  the  place  !  I 
must  ferret  her  out  somehow.  She  was  such  a  pretty 
little  dear !  If  I  see  her  in  that  garden  again,  I'll  speak 
to  her,  I  vow,  for  all  she  new  away  as  if  we  were  ogres." 

"How  do  you  know  your  acquaintance  will  be  des- 
sired  or  accepted?"  said  St.  Albans  from  another  win- 
dow, in  a  short  tone  utterly  unlike  his  own. 

I  looked  at    him   surprised.     There   was   a   flush   of 


THE   MARQUIS'S   TACTICS.  161 

annoyance  on  his  face,  and  lit  pulled  down  his  left  wrist- 
band impatiently.     Brabazon  laughed: 

"  What  a  shocking  fellow  you  are,  St.  Albans  !  Can't 
you  let  one  talk  of  a  single  woman  without  wanting  to 
appropriate  her?  Poor  Avarina,  je  la  plains!  But  do 
you  know  my  little  beauty  ?" 

"  What  may  her  name  be  ?"  said  St.  Albans,  with  his 
teeth  set  hard  on  his  Manilla. 

"Marchmont,  I  think;  I  mean  to  find  out  more  about 
her.  She's  too  good  to  be  lost,  if  attainable;  she's  the 
loveliest  little  thing,  on  my  honor,  and  you  know " 

St.  Albans  stroked  his  moustaches  impatiently,  an 
angry  flush  mounting  over  his  forehead.  I  had  never 
seen  him  loak  so  irritated  in  his  hie. 

"  I  know  one  thing,  that  if  you  want  to  be  home  in 
time  for  Lady  Wentworth's  theatricals,  vou  must  start. 
It  is  ten  o'clock,"  he  said,  looking  at  his  watch,  and 
flinging  his  Manilla  into  the  garden  below. 

We  did  want  to  be  in  time  for  Lady  Wentworth's,  so 
we  broke  up  and  drove  homewards,  St.  Albans  and  I,  in 
Brabazon's  trap.  St.  Albans  chose  the  back  seat,  and 
was  unusually  silent,  smoking,  and  entering  but  little 
into  mine  and  Brabazon's  conversation,  which  was  chiefly 
on  the  score  of  the  girl  whom  we  had  seen  a  few  days 
before,  when  we  were  on  the  river,  throwing  a  stick  into 
the  water,  towards  which  her  garden  sloped  down,  for 
her  dog  to  fetch,  and  whose  face  had  caught  Brabazon's 
eye,  and  pleased  him  so  well  that  he  couldn't  forget  it, 
and  being  an  inflammable  fellow,  had  sworn  to  see  it 
again,  which  appeared  to  him  tolerably  practicable,  as, 
by  all  his  servant  could  hear,  she  seemed  to  be  living 
alone,  save  a  few  domestics,  and  rather  a  mysterious 
young  lady  altogether,  going  by  the  name  of  Miss  March- 
mont.    He  was  destined  to  keep  his  oath.     Just  as  we 


1G2  the  marquis's  tactics. 

drove  out  of  Richmond  we  passed  the  palings  of  a  gar- 
den, with  laburnums  and  lilacs  nodding  their  heads  over 
them  in  the  summer  moonlight,  and  leaning  on  the  top 
rail  of  the  little  iron  gate  stood  this  identical  girl;  the 
June  evening  was  well-nigh  as  bright  as  day,  and  very 
pretty  and  striking  she  certainly  looked  in  it. 

"By  George!"  cried  Brabazon,  who  was  a  devil-may- 
care  young  fellow,  and  that  night,  thanks  to  his  having 
won  by  Grey  Royal,  in  the  mood  for  any  sort  of  a  lark, 
"  there's  my  little  beauty,  I  vow,  looking  for  somebody — 
for  me,  perhaps.     By  Jove,  I'll  go  and  ask  her !" 

"  Stop  !  Good  God !  are  you  mad  ?"  began  St.  Albans, 
in  a  tone  I'd  never  heard  froni  him  in  his  life;  but  before 
the  words  were  off  his  lips,  Brabazon  pulled  up,  flung  the 
reins  to  me,  jumped  down,  and  with  a  laugh,  lifting  his 
hat,  went  up  to  the  gate.  The  girl  stood  as  if  uncertain 
in  the  dusky  light,  whether  he  was  the  person,  whoever 
he  was,  whom  she  expected  or  not;  but  before  he  could 
speak  to  her,  St.  Albans  sprang  down,  and  caught  hold 
of  his  arm,  while  the  little  beauty  uttered  his  name, 
"  Cyril !"  with  an  accent  of  intense  relief  and  delight. 

"Brabazon,  take  care  what  you  say,"  he  began  in  an 
under  tone,  fiercer  than  that  careless  laissez-faire  fellow 
had  ever  troubled  himself  to  use  to  anybody. 

The  other  looked  up  and  laughed: 

"  The  devil !  I  beg  your  pardon,  St.  Albans.  I  didn't 
know  I  was  poaching  on  your  manor;  couldn't  tell,  could 
I?  You  abominable  sly  dog,  I  thought  you'd  some  pro- 
prietorship in " 

"  Be  silent,  for  Heaven's  sake !"  said  St.  Albans,  im- 
petuously. "  She  is  my  wife  !  As  such  you  must  honor 
and  respect  her." 

Brabazon  stared  aghast.  "  Your  wife !  Good  God !  I 
thought  Avarina  Sansreproche " 


THE   MARQUIS'S    TACTICS.  163 

"Is  nothing  to  me;  never  was,  never  will  be.  This  is 
my  wife.  Our  marriage  has  been  secret,  owing  to  many 
reasons,  but  it  must  be  secret  no  longer  now  insult  has 
once  approached  her,"  said  St.  Albans,  as  he  turned  and 
beckoned  to  me,  in  his  old  languid,  indolent  style,  draw- 
ing the  girl's  hand  through  his  arm.  "  Hervey,  my  good 
feiloAv,  it's  a  queer  place  for  an  introduction,  ten  o'clock 
at  night  at  a  garden  gate,  I  must  say,  but  will  you  allow 
me  ?  Violet,  these  are  two  of  my  best  friends.  Lady 
Cyril  St.  Albans;  Major  Hervey,  Captain  Brabazon." 


"I  told  Cyril  twelve  o'clock,  and  it  is  twenty  to  one; 
but  he  is  never  punctual.  He  might  as  well  come  at 
once;  he  knows  I  shall  be  delighted  to  hear  his  news, 
though  I  know  what  it  will  be.  The  idea  of  Hervey's 
betting  me  I  should  not  manage  that  affair.  If  you  set 
to  work  adroitly  you  are  safe  to  succeed;  skillful  diplo- 
macy always Ah  !  there  you  are  Cyril,  at  last.     Good 

morning,"  said  the  Marquis,  nest  morning,  looking  up 
from  his  breakfast  in  his  house  in  Berkeley  Square, 
awaiting  the  interview  his  son  had  requested. 

St.  Albans  tossed  himself  into  an  easy-chair,  laid  his 
head  back  on  the  cushion,  and  stroked  an  infinitesimal 
terrier.  "  Good  morning,  governor.  I'm  come  to  speak 
to  you,  please." 

"Speak,  my  dear  fellow,"  smiled  the  Marquis,  gra- 
ciously.    "I  can  guess  your  errand,  but  go  on." 

"Did  I  understand  you  rightly,  sir,  that  you  wished 
ma  to  marry?" 

"Quite  rightly.     I  do  wish  you- — most  earnestly." 

"  You  think  I  couldn't  do  better  ?" 

"  Decidedly  I  do.     You  have  my  full  concurrence." 

"  I'm  glad  to  hear  that,  because   it's   troublesome  to 


164  THE   MAEQUIS'S   TACTICS. 

dispute,  and  you  know  I'm  always  happy  to  please  you. 
"Will  you  come  and  be  introduced  to  my  wife,  then  ?" 

The  Marquis  laughed,  and  stirred  his  chocolate : 

"My  dear  Cyril,  I  congratulate  you  most  warmly;  you 
have  acted  most  wisely;  believe  me  it  will  be  the  hap- 
piest step  of  your  life." 

"  I  think  it  will !" 

"I  know  it  will.  I  could  not  tell  you  how  much  I 
myself  am  pleased.  Of  course  you  have  said  nothing 
about  time  yet,  but  if  I  might  advise,  I  should  hurry  it 
on  as  much  as  possible.     Your  Jews " 

"  I  have  hurried  it  on.  I  went  through  the  ceremony, 
and  bore  it  nobly,  I  assure  you,  a  month  ago." 

The  Marquis  stared.  "Went  through  the  ceremony? 
Pardon  me,  I  don't  quite  understand  your  jest.  "What 
do  you  mean  ?" 

"  I  mean,  bon  pere,  that  I  am  married !" 

"  Good  Heavens !     Avarina  would  never " 

"Avarina  has  nothing  to  do  with  it.  My  dear  gov- 
ernor, I'm  very  sorry,  but  I  had  anticipated  your  advice. 
Don't  be  vexed,  governor,  she  will  do  the  St  Albans 
credit;  surely,  you  can  trust  my  taste.  I  was  married 
the  day  you  counselled  me  first.  We  have  had  to  keep 
it  private,  because  of  those  deuced  Jews;  but  there  is  no 
longer  any  need.  I  won  enough  at  Ascot  to  quiet  the 
most  troublesome,  and  I  am  able  to  proclaim  it,  and  in- 
troduce her  now.  Don't  go  into  a  fit,  my  dear  father,  • 
for  God's  sake  !  I  know  you  meant  ah  kindness,  but  had 
I  never  met  Violet,  neither  you  nor  any  man  would  have 
made  me  sell  myself  for  money- " 

"  Violet. !"  gasped  the  Marquis,  white  and  breathless. 

"  Poor  Marchmont's  daughter — his  only  child,  indeed. 
Do  you  remember  him — a  man  in  the  Bays,  who  ran 
through  every  sou  and  cut  to   France  ?     I    met  her  in 


THE   MAEQUIS'S  TACTICS.  165 

Paris  this  spring,  under  very  singular  circumstances — ro- 
mantic ones,  if  you  like.  No  matter  to  relate  them  now; 
her  father  was  dead,  she  was  only  eighteen,  alone  and 
unhappy  with  some  wretched  French  people,  and,  in  a 
word,"  said  St.  Albans,  nestling  into  his  chair  and  re- 
suming his  old  tone,  "she  pleased  me,  and  I  was  so 
dreadfully  afraid  of  your  fettering  me  one  day  to  some 
red-hairded  woman  with  tin,  that  I  married  her  in  Paris, 
and  gave  her  a  right  to  protect  me." 

Lord  Glenallerton  gasped  for  breath,  then  rose,  his 
indignation  too  great  to  be  uttered.  He  looked  at  his 
son  with  deep,  mournful,  contemptuous  pity. 

"The  girl  was  only  eighteen — alone — unprotected — 
and  you  married  her  ?" 

St.  Albans  rose  too: 

"Yes,  my  lord,  I  married  her!  Vaurien  I  may  be, 
but,  thank  God,  I  did  not  utterly  abuse  trust  innocently 
and  entirely  placed  in  me." 

The  Marquis  waved  his  hand  to  the  door. 

"I  decline  to  express  my  opinion  of  your  conduct,  or  I 
should  be  obliged  to  use  words  I  should  regret  to  use  to 
a  man  who  bears  my  name.  You  will  see  your  own  folly  in 
time  without  any  enlightenment  from  me.  I  need  not 
say  I  wish  our  acquaintance  to  cease  from  to-day.  May 
I  trouble  you  to  leave  me  ? — Married  a  woman  without  a 
farthing !  Good  God !  And  he  calls  himself  a  man  of 
the  world!"  murmured  the  Marquis,  as  the  door  closed 
on  his  son;  and  he  sank  back  in  his  arm-chair,  crushed, 
paralysed,  and  speechless,  at  the  ruin  of  all  his  diplo- 
macy. 

And  so  our  bet  was  drawn!  The  Marquis's  Tactics 
were  the  best  joke  of  that  season;  but  Rochefoucaldean 
philosopher  though  he  might  be,  I  believe  their  failure 
rankled  more   cruelly  in   Lord  Glen's   breast   than  any 


166  THE   MAEQUIS'S   TACTICS. 

lack  of  success  at  a  European  congress  or  a  meeting  of 
the  Powers.  He  had  never  been  foiled  before — and  ho 
had  made  a  fool  of  himself  to  so  many !  As  for  cutting 
St.  Albans,  he  was  too  good  nature  d  to  do  that,  and  in 
his  heart  liked  his  son  too  well  to  be  able  to  sit  in  the 
same  club  window  many  days  without  speaking  to  him. 
He  considered  him  an  enfant  perdu,  a  wasted  alliance — 
en  un  mot,  a  very  great  fool — but  told  him  so  one  day 
with  much  unction,  regretted  that  romantic  element  in 
his  character,  to  which  his  downfall  was  to  be  attributed, 
with  deep  pathos,  and  was  reconciled  to  him  ever  after- 
wards. He  had  some  slight  consolation  when  Faineant 
returned  from  Athens,  in  wedding  him  to  Avarina  Sans- 
reproche;  and  if  you  asked  him  which  he  preferred  of 
his  two  belles-filles,  he  would  tell  you — and  possibly 
persuade  himself  that  he  told  the  truth — that  he  ad- 
mires and  respects  the  future  Baroness  of  Turquoise  and 
Malachite  de  tout  son  cceur,  and  has  never  pardoned 
"Cyril's  Folly,"  as  he  terms  the  other;  but  as  Lady 
Faineant  grows  decidedly  plainer  as  years  rolled  on,  and 
it  is  Violet  St.  Albans  with  whom  he  laughs,  jokes,  and 
tells  his  Regency  stories,  and  at  whom  he  looked  most 
complacently  at  theDrawing-room,  when  they  were  both 
presented  "  on  their  marriage,"  the  next  season,  I  have 
my  doubts  as  to  his  veracity,  though  I  have  too  much 
gratitude  for  gold  tips  given  me  in  my  Eton  days,  and 
too  much  liking  for  my  good  friend  the  Marquis,  ever  to 
remind  him  of  the  one  sore  point  of  his  life,  and  the 
Bet  I  once  made  at  the  Conservative. 


BLUE  AND  YELLOW. 


BLUE  AND  YELLOW. 


FITZ  GOES  DOWN  BY  THE  EXPRESS,  AND  MAKES  AN  ACQUAINT- 
ANCE EN  ROUTE. 

There  was  to  be  an  Election.  The  Lords  and  Com- 
mons hadn't  hit  it;  one  hon.  gentleman  had  blackguarded 
another  hon.  gentleman;  the  big  schoolboys  of  St. 
Stephen's  had  thrown  stones  at  each  other,  and  as  they 
all  lived  in  glass  houses,  the  practice  was  dangerous;  the 
session  had  not  benefited  the  country — so  far  as  the 
country  could  see — one  bit;  the  Times  opined  that  the 
nation  was  going  to  the  dogs,  and  suggested  that  parlia- 
ment should  dissolve.  The  Times  is  Csesar  now-a-days, 
so  parliament  obeyed,  broke  itself  up,  and  appealed  to  the 
country — i.  e.  set  the  Carlton  and  Reform  counting  up 
their  money,  the  lawyers  quarrelling  for  all  the  dirty 
work,  and  the  10Z.  voters  looking  out  for  XXX  and  fivers, 
and  the  country  responded  promptly,  loving  a  tussle  as 
dearly  as  a  beagle,  by  sharpening  its  bowie-knives  for  the 
contest,  wondering  who  would  buy  its  votes  the  highest, 
and  hunting  up  its  stock  of  Blue  and  Yellow  banners. 

"So  the  governor  wants  me  to  stand  for  Cantit- 
borough.  I'm  not  sure  I  won't.  I'm  confoundedly  tired 
of  this  life  year  after  year.     Perhaps  the  election  will  give 

8 


170  BLUE  AND  YELLOW. 

me  a  littlo  fun.  "What  do  you  say,  Lady  Fanny  ?"  began 
my  brother  Fitz  one  morning,  lying  reading  the  Field 
and  drinking  strong  coffee  with  brandy  in  it  by  way  of 
breakfast,  when  I  called  on  him  in  his  chambers  in  the 
Albany. 

This  atrocious  sobriquet  of  "  Lady  Fanny "  arose 
simply,  be  it  known,  from  the  fact  of  my  name  being 
Francis,  and  from  no  womanish  tendencies  or  taste  for 
ass's  milk,  like  my  namesake  of  the  Hervey  family.  If 
any  of  ,us  had  shown  an  effeminate  turn,  I  believe  the 
governor  would  have  shot  him  straight  away  as  unfit  to 
cumber  the  earth. 

"Well,"  I  answered,  "I  think  I  would  if  I  were  you, 
if  you  don't  mind  spending  a  couple  of  thousand  or  so  to 
buy  two  little  letters  to  stick  after  your  name,  and  have 
no  objection  to  being  cooped  up  on  field-nights  while  the 
old  women  badger  each  other.  We  may  have  some  jolly 
fun  cajoling  the  independent  electors,  and  making  love 
to  their  wives  and  daughters." 

"I  think  I  will,"  said  Fitz,  twisting  a  refractory  leaf 
round  his  weed.  "I  want  something  to  do;  and, 
besides,  if  I'm  a  member,  they  won't  be  able  to  put  me  in 
quod,  that's  a  grand  consideration.  The  town's  so  con- 
foundedly Tory  though,  there'll  be  no  end  of  opposition. 
"We  shall  set  them  all  together  by  the  ears,  the  Blues  and 
Yellows  won't  speak  for  years,  and  I  shall  be  written  up 
in  the  Cantitborough  Post  as  a  leveller,  a  socialist,  a 
skeptic,  a  democrat,  and  all  the  delicious  names  that  the 
slow  coaches  call  anybody  who's  a  little  wide  awake  and 
original.     Yes,  I  think  I'll  put  up  for  it."  - 

"  Who  contests  it  with  you  ?"  said  I.  I  was  just  home 
from  a  reading  tour  (where,  by-the-by,  we  read  not  at  all, 
but  smoked  and  fished  determinedly)  with  some  Trinity 
men,  and  knew  nothing  about  my  native  county. 


BLUE  AND   YELLOW.  171 

"There  are  two  of  'em,"  answered  Fitz;  "one  an  old 
Indian,  Tory  out-and-out,  worth  a  million,  and  conse- 
quently worshipped  by  his  neighbors,  at  whom,  I  be- 
lieve, when  heated  with  overmuch  curry  and  cognac,  he 
swears  more  than  is  customary  in  these  polite  times. 
The  next  is  a  boy,  just  one-and-twenty — you  know  him, 
Cockadoodle's  son.  He  was  in  petticoats  the  other  day, 
but,  as  his  father's  an  Earl,  he's  to  be  transplanted  from 
the  nursery  to  the  Commons  without  any  intermediate 
education.  The  other  is  that  sneaking  thing,  that  com- 
promise between  right  and  wrong,  that  hybrid  animal,  a 
Liberal  Conservative.  You  know  him,  too,  Augustus  Le 
Hoop  Smith;  that  creature  who  made  his  tin  by  wool, 
or  something  horrid,  and  bought  Foxley,  and  set  up  as 
the  patriarchal  father  of  his  people,  in  the  new-fangled 
country  squire  style,  with  improved  drainage,  model  cot- 
tages, prize  laborers,  and  all  the  rest  of  it.  Two  of  us 
must  go  to  the  wall.  I  shall  like  the  light,  and  you'll  do 
the  chief  of  the  canvassing;  mind,  I'm  no  hand  at  soft- 
soaping.  All  I  engage  to  do  is  to  kiss  any  pretty  woman 
there  may  be  in  the  place." 

"You're  very  kind,  taking  the  fun  and  giving  me  the 
work.  I  suppose  you  know  you'll  have  to  shake  hands 
with  every  one  of  the  Great  Unwashed." 

"  Brutes  !"  rejoined  Fitz,  who  was  popularly  supposed 
to  be  a  Socialist  and  Democrat;  "I'll  see  them  all  hanged 
first!" 

"And  you  must  joke  with  the  butchers,  and  have  a 
glass  with  the  coalheavers,  and  make  friends  with  the 
sweeps." 

"  I'd  sooner  lose  my  election,"  rejoined  the  Republican. 

"And  you  must  kiss  a  baby  or  two." 

The  horror,  loathing,  and  disgust  expressed  on  Fitz's 
face  were  as  good  to  see  as  "  Box  and  Cox." 


172  BLUE   AND    YELLOW, 

"  Not  to  get  the  premiership  would  I  touch  one  of  the 
brats.  Faugh  !  I'd  lose  my  seat  fifty  times  over.  Of  all 
the  loathsome  ideas !  If  you've  nothing  pleasanter  to 
suggest,  Fan,  you'd  better  get  out  of  the  room,  if  you 
please." 

"  Thank  you.  Don't  you  remember  the  sensation  Mr. 
Samuel  Slunkey  produced  by  like  caresses  in  Pickwick  ?" 

"  Pickwick  go  to  the  devil,  and  you  too !  I  shall  do 
nothing  more  than  give  them  my  tin,  as  everything  is 
bought  and  sold  now-a-days,  and  tell  them  I  shall  vote 
for  free  trade,  cheap  divorces,  marriage  with  whoever 
one  likes,  religious  toleration — in  fact,  for  liberty,  '  liberte 
cherie,'  for  everything  and  everybody.  Then,  if  they 
don't  like  my  opinions,  they  can  have  the  Liberal  Con- 
servative instead.     /  shan't  care  two  straws." 

"  Admirably  philosophic  !  It's  lucky  you're  not  going 
to  try  the  county.  The  farmers  and  clericals  wouldn't 
have  you  at  any  price.  You  cut  at  the  root  of  their  mo- 
nopoly— corn-laws  and  tithes,  church-rates  and  protec- 
tion. However,  the  more  fight  the  more  fun.  "We  shall 
be  like  a  couple  of  terriers  in  a  barn  full  of  rats.  When 
shall  we  go  down  ?" 

"  Tuesday.  I  shall  go  to  Hollywood,  it's  a  snug  little 
box,  and  so  much  closer  the  town  than  the  governor's; 
and  as  he's  so  ill,  poor  old  chap,  he  won't  want  the  bother 
of  us.  I  mean  to  have  little  Beauclerc  as  my  agent;  he 
wa3  with  me  at  Eton,  and  is  the  sharpest  dog  in  Lincoln's 
Inn.  That's  enough  business  for  to-day,  Fan.  I'm  now 
going  to  Tattersall's  to  look  at  a  roan  filly  to  run  tandem 
with  Rumpunch;  then  I'm  to  meet  my  lady  Frisette  in 
the  Pantheon  at  two;  and  at  five  I'm  going  to  dine  at  the 
Castle  with  Grouse  and  some  other  men.  So  rinar  the 
bell  for  Soames,  and  order  the  cab  round,  there's  a  good 
boy." 


BLUE   AND    YELLOW.  17S 

My  brother  (Randolph  Fitzhardinge,  according  to  the 
register  and  his  visiting  cards,  but  to  us  and  to  every- 
body briefly  Fitz)  is  a  fine,  tall,  handsome  fellow,  a  trifle 
bronzed,  and  more  than  a  trifle  blase,  with  aquiline  fea- 
tures, a  devil-may-care  expression,  and  a  figure  not  beat 
in  the  Guards.  He  has  been  amusing  himself  about  in 
the  world  ever  since  he  left  Christ  Church,  ten  years  ago, 
and  as  he  will  come  into  12,000/.  a  year  whenever  the 
governor  leaves  him  to  reign  in  his  stead,  has  not  thought 
himself  necessitated  to  do  more  than  live  in  the  Albany, 
hunt  with  the  Pytchley,  lounge  in  the  "bay-window," 
habituate  the  coulisses,  and  employ  all  the  other  ingeni- 
ous methods  for  killing  time  invented  by  men  about  town. 
He  is  a  good  old  fellow,  is  Fitz,  and  the  governor's  favorite, 
which  I  don't  wonder  at,  though  I  believe  Fitz  has  been 
more  trouble  to  him  than  any  of  us,  as  far  as  I  O  Us  and 
screws  at  Newmarket  and  Doncaster  go.  But  he's  the 
best  oar  in  the  Blue-Jersey  B.  C,  the  firmest  seat  and 
the  lightest  hand  in  the  county,  as  good  a  batsman  as 
any  in  Lord's  Eleven,  and  these  cover  a  multitude  of  sins 
in  the  governor's  eyes;  to  say  nothing  that  Fitz  is  as 
clear-headed,  generous-hearted,  plucky  a  fellow  as  any 
man  I  know — and  I've  a  right  to  think  so,  for  Fitz  used 
to  tip  me  royally  when  I  was  a  little  chap  under  my  sis- 
ters' governess  (by  George !  how  I  did  hate  that  woman, 
a  horrid  Wurtemburger,  with  red  hair),  and  he  a  six-foot 
Etonian  just  going  up  to  Oxford.  Besides,  when  I  was 
in  that  devil  of  a  mess  for  tying  up  old  Burton,  the  proc- 
tor, to  his  own  knocker,  was  it  not  Fitz  who  set  it  square 
with  the  governor  ?  and  when  I  dropped  a  couple  of  hun- 
dred over  the  Cambridge  Stakes,  backing  Mosella,  who 
was  scarcely  fit  for  a  cab-horse,  did  not  Fitz  lend  me  the 
damage,  with  payment  postponed  ad  infinitum,  though 
he  was  nearly  cleaned  out  at  the  time  himself  ? 


174  BLUE   AND   YELLOW. 

Tuesday  came,  and  Fitz  (leaving-  Lady  Frisette  dis- 
solved in  tears  in  her  boudoir,  which  tears,  no  doubt, 
were  dried  as  soon  as  his  back  was  turned,  as  being  no 
longer  necessary,  and  destructive  to  rouge  and  beauty,) 
with  Beauclerc  and  myself — and  Rumpunch  and  the  new 
filly  in  a  horse-box — put  himself  in  the  express  for  Pottle- 
shire. 

We  had  a  carriage  to  ourselves,  and  of  course,  as  soon 
as  we  were  out  of  Paddington,  took  out  our  pipes  and 
began  to  enjoy  a  quiet  smoke. 

"I  do  wish,"  began  Fitz,  opening  the  window  and  tak- 
ing off  his  cap,  for  it  was  a  hot  June  afternoon,  "  they'd 
keep  a  carriage,  as  they  do  in  Venice,  for  the  muffs  that 
can't  stand  the  sweet  odors  of  regalia,  and  not  sacrifice 
us  by  boxing  us  up  without  a  weed  for  four,  six,  perhaps 
twelve  hours,  or  else  making  us  pay  51.  for  other  people's 
olfactory  fancies.  I  wonder  somebody  don't  take  it  up. 
They  write  a  lot  of  nonsense  about  this  nuisance  and 
that  evil,  that  they're  great  idiots  to  notice  at  all;  but  if 
they  would  write  up  the  crying  injustice  to  smokers  on 
British  railways,  there'd  be  something  like  a  case — the 
Woolwich  flogging's  nothing-  to  it." 


'bb 


"  Wait  till  we've  got  the  election,  and  then  send  a  let- 
ter to  the  Times  about  it,  signed  '  M.  P.,'  or  a  '  Lover  of 
Justice,'  "  said  Beauclerc,  a  'cute  little  fellow,  fast  as  a 
telegraph,  and  sharp  as  a  ferret's  bite. 

"  I'll  get  up  a  petition  rather,  signed  by  all  smokers, 
and  addressed  to  all  the  directors.  I  think  we're  pretty 
safe  for  to-day.  I  don't  fancy  the  express  stops  at  more 
than  a  couple  of  stations  between  this  and  Cantitborough, 
so  we  are  not  likely  to  have  any  women  to  bore  us.  I 
detest  travelling  with  women,"  said  Fitz,  looking  out  of 
the  window  as  if  he  dreaded  an  advent  of  feminines  along 
the  telegraph  wires.     "  You  have  to  put  out  your  pipe, 


BLUE  AND   YELLOW.  175 

offer  them  your  Punch,  and  squeeze  into  nothing  to  mate 
room  for  their  crinoline.     Let's  look  at  the  Bradshaw 
No!  we  only  stop  twice:  thought  so.     It  will  certainly 
be  odd  if  we  can't  keep  the  carriage  to  ourselves." 

With  which  unchivalrous  sentiment  Fitz  poked  up  his 
pipe,  cut  the  paper  with  his  ticket,  and  settled  himself 
comfortably.  Twenty  minutes  after,  the  engine  gave  a 
shriek,  which  woke  him  out  of  his  serenity. 

"Here's  Bottleston,  confound  it!"  cried  Fitz.  "I 
know  the  place — there's  never  anybody  but  a  farmer  or 
two  for  the  second  class.  No  fear  of  crinoline  out  of 
these  wilds." 

Fitz  made  rather  too  sure.  As  we  hissed,  and  whistled, 
and  panted,  and  puffed  into  the  station,  what  should  we 
see  on  the  platform  but  six  women — absolutely  six — 
talking  and  laughing  together,  with  a  maid  and  a  lot  of 
luggage  cased  up,  after  the  custom  of  females,  in  brown 
holland,  as  if  the  boxes  had  put  on  smock-frocks  by  mis- 
take. Fitz  swore  mildly  as  he  took  his  pipe  out  of  his 
mouth,  and  leaned  forward  to  show  as  if  the  carriage  was 
full.  Not  a  bit  of  use  was  it — with  the  instinctive  obsti- 
nacy of  her  sex,  up  to  our  very  door  came  one  of  the 
fatal  half  dozen. 

"  There's  room  in  here,  Timbs,"  she  said,  with  the 
supremest  tranquillity,  motioning  to  her  maid  to  put  in 
the  hundred  things — bouquet,  dressing-case,  book,  travel- 
ling-bag, and  Heaven  knows  what,  with  which  young 
ladies  will  cumber  themselves  on  a  journey  of  half  an 
hour. 

"  The  perfume  is  extremely  like  that  of  a  tobacco-shop, 
where  there  is  license  to  smoke  on  the  premises,"  whis- 
pered the  intruder  to  one  of  her  companions— all  pretty 
women,  by-the-by — with  a  significant  glance  at  us. 

The  whistle  screamed — the  young  ladies  bid  each  other 


176  BLUE   AND   YELLOW. 

good-by  with  frantic  baste  and  great  enthusiasm — the 
train  started,  throwing  the  maid  into  Beau's  arms,  who 
(as  she  was  thirty  and  red-haired)  was  not  grateful  for 
the  accident,  and  her  mistress  seated  herself  opposite 
Fitz  and  began  to  pay  great  attention  to  a  poodle  im- 
prisoned in  a  basket,  and  very  prone  to  rebel  against  his 
incarceration. 

"  That  little  brute  will  yap  all  the  way,  I  suppose  ?" 
muttered  Fitz,  looking  supremely  haughty  and  stiltified. 
The    dog's    owner    glanced    up    quickly.     "Dauphin 
never  annoys  any  one." 

Fitz,  cool  as  he  was,  loo  kedcaught,  bent  his  head,  and 
putting  his  pipe  in  his  pocket  with   a   sigh,  stuck  his 
glass  in  his  eye  and  calmly  criticised  the   young  lady. 
She  was  decidedly  good  style,  with  large  bright  hazel 
eyes  and  hair  to  match,  and  was  extremely  well  got  up 
in  a  hat  with  drooping  feathers,  and  one  of  those  pretty 
tight  jackets  that,  I  presume,  the  girls   wear   to   show 
their  figures.     She  was  pretty  enough  to  console  Beau 
for  the  loss  of  his  smoke,  and  even  Fitz  thawed  a  little, 
and  actually  went  the  length  of  offering  her  (with  his 
grandest  air,  though,)  the  Athenceum   he  was   reading. 
After  a  time  he  dropped  a  monosyllable  or  two  about 
the  weather;  she  was  ready  enough  to  talk,  like  a  sensi- 
ble little  thing — I  hate  that  "  silent   system  "   of  John 
Bull  and  his  daughters — and  in  half  an  hour  Fitz  had 
examined  and  admired  the  poodle  and   was  forgetting 
his  lost  pipe   in   chatting  with   the   poodle's  mistress, 
when  he  somehow  or  other  got  upon  the  general  elec- 
tion. 

"  We  are  all  excitement,"  laughed  the  young  lady, 
whose  cameriste,  by  the  way,  looked  rather  glum  on  our 
conversation.  "  It  is  quite  delightful  to  have  anything 
to  stir  up  this  unhappy  county.     I  have  only  lived  in  it 


BLUE   AND    YELLOW.  177 

six  months,  but  I  am  sure  it  is  the  dullest  place  in  the 
world — the  North  Pole  couldn't  be  worse." 

"Is  it  indeed?"  said  Fitz.  "Pray  can  you  tell  me 
who  are  the  candidates  ?" 

"  General  Salter,  Mr.  Fitzhardinge,  Lord  Verdant, 
and  a  Mr.  Smith — Le  Hoop  Smith,  I  mean;  I  beg  his 
pardon !" 

"  May  I  ask  whom  ypu  favor  with  your  good  wishes  ?" 

"They  are  none  of  them  worth  much,  I  fancy,"  she 
answered.  "  Mr.  Fitzhardinge,  I  understand,  is  the  only 
clever  one;  but  everybody  says  he  is  good  for  nothing." 

"  Not  exactly  the  man  to  be  a  member,  then,"  observed 
Fitz,  gravely,  stroking  the  poodle.  "What  is  said 
against  him  ?" 

"I  don't  know.  They  call  him  extravagant,  skeptic, 
socialist,  republican — in  fact,  there  is  no  name,  they 
don't  give  him.  I  think  he  would  do  Pottleshire  good 
for  that  very  reason;  it  wants  something  original." 

"  Then  you  are  a  Radical,"  smiled  Fitz. 

She  smiled  too. 

"  It  is  treason  for  me  to  say  so  ;  we  are  all  Blue  a  ou- 
trance.     Ah  !  here  is  Cantitborough." 

It  was  Cantitborough;  that  neat,  clean,  cpiiet,  anti- 
quated town,  that  always  puts  me  in  mind  of  an  old 
maid  dressed  for  a  party;  that  slowest  and  dreariest  of 
boroughs,  where  the  streets  are  as  full  of  grass  as  an 
acre  of  pasture-land,  and  the  inhabitants  are  driven  to 
ring  their  own  door-bells  lest  they  should  rust  from 
disuse. 

The  train  stopped,  and  Fitz  looked  as  disgusted  at 
losing  his  travelling  companion  as  he  had  done  at  her 
first  appearance,  and  stared  with  "Who  the  devil  are 
you  ?"  plainly  written  on  his  face,  at  a  young  fellow  who 
met  her  on  the  platform.     Fitz  was  before  him,  though, 

8* 


178  BLUE  AND   YELLOW. 

m  handing  her  and  the  poodle  out,  and  went  to  look 
after  her  luggage,  for  motives  of  his  own,  as  you  may 
guess.  He  was  very  graciously  thanked  for  his  trouble, 
had  a  pretty  bow  to  repay  him,  and  saw  the  poodle  and 
its  mistres  off  with  her  unknown  cavalier  (a  brother, 
probably,  from  the  don't  carish  way  that  he  met  her) 
before  he  got  on  a  dog-cart  and  tooled  us  down  the 
road  to  Hollywood,  a  snug  little  box  two  miles  from 
Cantitborough,  left  him  by  Providence,  impersonated  by 
a  godfather,  with  eight  or  nine  hundred  a  year. 

"  Of  course  you  improved  the  occasion,  Fitz,  and  saw 
the  name  on  the  boxes  ?"  said  Beau,  as  we  drove  along. 

"  Of  course.  It's  Barnardiston.  I  never  heard  of  it 
in  the  county,  did  you,  Fan  ?  She  ought  to  be  a  lady, 
by  her  style,  and  her  voice  (though  it's  wonderful  how 
the  under-bred  ones  do  contrive  to  get  themselves  up, 
so  that  you  can  hardly  tell  the  difference  till  they  begin 
to  speak,  or  move:  then,  I  never  mistake  a  lady.)  I 
wonder  who  that  young  fool  was  who  met  her  ?" 

"  "Why  of  necessity  a  fool  because  he  chanced  to  be 
in  your  way?"  laughed  Beau.  "  He  was  a  Cantab,  I 
guess,  by  his  cut  ;  Cambridge  is  always  stamped  on 
those  little  straw  hats  and  fast  coats,  as  Balmoral  boots 
indicates  a  strong-minded  young  woman,  earrings  out  of 
their  bonnets  girls  that  want  one  to  look  at  'em,  Quaker 
colors  and  sun-shades  girls  who  can't  go  in  for  the  at- 
tractive line,  so  have  sought  refuge  in  the  district  visit- 
ing. Bless  your  heart,  I  always  know  a  woman  by  her 
dress." 

"  What  do  you  say  to  Dauphin's  owner,  then?" 

"  Black  hat  and  feathers — possibly  coquettish ;  tight 
jacket — fast  enough  to  be  pleasant;  general  style — not 
fast  enough  to  be  bold;  lavender  gloves — good  taste,  but 
not  a  notion  of  economy;  unexceptionable  boots — knows 


BLUE   AND   YELLOW.  179 

she's  pretty  feet,  and  is  too  wise  to   disfigure   them," 
promptly  responded  little  Beau. 

"Bravo!"  said  Fitz,  whipping  up  the  mare  (three 
parts  thorough-bred,  and  one  of  the  best  goers  I  ever 
saw),  "  that's  just  my  style.  We'll  fish  the  girl  up,  and 
show  her  that  if  I'm  'good  for  nothing'  in  all  the  other 
capacities  of  life,  I'm  first-rate  at  a  flirtation;  can't  live 
without  one,  indeed,  and  I  don't  see  why  one  should  try, 
since,  as  the  women  are  never  easy  but  when  were  mak- 
ing love  to  them,  it  would  be  a  want  of  chaiity  not  to 
oblige  them.  Here  we  are.  By  Jove  !  I  hope  they'll 
have  iced  the  wine  properly;  don't  you  long  for  a  bottle, 
Fanny?" 

"Soames,"  said  Fitz  to  his  man,  when  we  had  dis- 
cussed the  champagne,  which  was  iced  as  cold  as  a  "  wall- 
flower's "  answer  when  you  ask  if  she  has  enjoyed  her 
ball — "  Soanies,  go  over  this  evening  to  Cantitborough, 
and  find  out  for  me  if  there  are  any  people  called  Barn- 
ardiston living  anywhere  there,  and  bring  me  word  all 
about  them." 

"Certainly,  sir,"  said  Soames. 

And  that  night,  when  we  were  smoking  out  on  the 
lawn,  Soames,  who  had  often  sped  on  like  errands,  made 
his  report.  There  was  a  Barnardiston  pere,  a  gentleman 
of  independent  fortune,  living  at  the  Larches;  a  Barnar- 
diston m&re,  over  whom  he  tyrannised  greatly;  a  son,  Mr. 
Herbert  Barnardiston,  who  was  at  John's;  two  small 
boys,  and  two  daughters,  one,  Valencia,  who  was  en- 
gaged to  the  perpetual  curate  of  St.  Hildebrande's,  and 
one,  Caroline,  who,  as  far  as  Soames  could  hear,  was  not 
engaged  to  anybody  at  all. 

"Now,  by  George  !"  said  Fitz,  puffing  his  regalia  in  the 
moon's  face,  "Dauphin's  mistress  is  a  fat  lot  too  good  for 
that  pursy  little  Low  Church  brute  at  St.  Hildebrande's. 


180  BLUE  AND   YELLOW. 

I  remember  being  by  ill  luck  in  that  church,  once  when 
he  was  preaching,  and  he  thumped  his  cushion  so  vio- 
lently in  his  passion  with  us  sinners,  that  he  sent  the 
dust  out  of  it  in  a  regular  simoom,  which  set  the  old 
clerk  off  sneezing  so,  that  we  couldn't  hear  a  word  of 
the  sermon — providential  interposition,  considering  the 
mahce  of  the  discourse.  I  wonder  if  it  is  she  ?  Valen- 
cia sounds  more  like  her  than  Caroline." 

"  Calm  your  mind,  old  fellow,"  said  Beau;  "  our  beauty 
isn't  engaged  to  a  parson,  take  my  word  for  it.  I  always 
know  the  betrothed  of  the  Church  at  a  glance.  They're 
getting  in  training  to  take  interest  in  the  distribution  of 
flannel  petticoats  and  brown-papered  tracts;  they  cast 
their  eyes  away  from  good-looking  fellows,  for  fear  they 
shoidd  be  tempted  to  compare  black  ties  with  white 
chokers;  they  wear  already  the  Lady  Bountiful  head  of 
the  parish  air;  they  try  to  inflate  themselves  with  big  talk 
on  the  duties  of  a  clergyman's  wife,  but  in  their  secret 
souls  are  they  already  weighed  down  by  the  dreadful 
decree  that  '  deacons'  wives  must  be  grave,  not  slander- 
ous; sober,  faithful  in  all  things;'  as  if  women  would  not 
just  as  soon  be  put  in  Newgate  for  life  as  denied  their 
natural  food — scandal  and  flirtation.  No !  take  comfort, 
Fitz,  your  love  of  the  railway  carriage  is  no  parson's 
fiancee,  I'll  swear." 


H. 

BEAU    BEGINS    ONE    CANVASS    AND    FITZ   ANOTHEB. 

Upon  my  honor  I  never  saw  a  funnier  contrast  in  my 
life,  sir,  than-  the  candidates  for  the  borough;  and  when 
I'saw  them  all  four  on  the  Market  Hill,  I  never  laughed 


BLUE  AND   YELLOW.  181 

more  at  old  Buckstone.  There  was  first,  of  course,  little 
Verdant,  long,  lanky,  and  meek-looking,  like  all  the  Cock- 
adoodles,  sitting  forward  on  his  horse's  neck,  as  if  he 
were  afraid  of  tumbling  off.  There  was  his  bi'other  Con- 
servative, Le  Hoop  Smith,  bland,  sweet  smiling,  and  for 
the  world  like  a  tabby  cat  on  its  best  behavior  in  a  gor- 
geous turn-out,  with  his  arms,  fished  up  by  the  Herald's 
Office,  blazoned  on  the  panels  as  big  as  a  sign-post. 
Then,  on  a  fat,  white  shooting  pony  was  Salter,  the  old 
fellow  of  the  H.  E.  I.  C.  S.,  as  round  as  a  pumpkin  and 
as  yellow  as  a  buttercup,  who'd  have  thought  nothing  of 
lashing  the  independent  electors  as  he'd  flogged  his  Se- 
poys, and  who,  not  being  able  to  do  that,  swore  at  them 
vigorously;  and  then,  last  of  all,  was  Fitz,  haughty,  dash- 
ing, "distingue"  (as  the  shop  people  say  of  a  2s.  5d. 
cotton),  setting  all  the  women  mad  about  him,  and  stick- 
ing on  to  his  thorough-bred  as  if  they  were  both  cast 
together  in  bronze.  There  was  no  doubt  of  Yerdant's 
coming  in;  the  fact  of  his  being  the  son  of  the  only  live 
Earl  near  Cantitborough  secured  that.  The  tradesmen 
were  for  Salter,  because  he  ate  much  and  paid  well.  The 
clergy  and  professions  were  for  Le  Hoop  Smith,  because 
he  was  such  a  pious,  jioetical,  sj)otless  creature  (though 
a  pompous  snob,  like  all  those  money-made  men) ;  and 

for  Fitz Well,  poor  old  Fitz  had  the  women,  and  one 

or  two  enlightened  individuals,  on  his  side;  a  very  small 
hap'orth  of  bread  to  a  whole  ocean  of  sack  were  all  the 
constituents  he  seemed  likely  to  gain,  though  Beau  and 
other  agents  set  to  work  as  hard  as  steam-engines,  and 
Fitz  and  I  canvassed  perseveringly,  though  the  Socialists 
had  a  profound  contempt  in  practice  for  the  Canaille, 
whom  in  theory  he  dignified  into  the  People ;  and  despite 
his  opinion  that  all  men  were  equal,  was  not  at  all  pre- 
pared to  suffer  familiarity  from  his  unwashed  brethren. 


182  BLUE  AND   YELLOW. 

If  you  have  ever  had  the  ill  luck,  as  I  have  had,  to  be  in 
a  small  spiteful  country  town  in  election  time,  when 
everybody  is  spitting  and  swearing  like  cats  on  the  tiles, 
you  can  fancy,  sir,  what  Cantitborough  was  at  this  period 
of  its  history.  We  stirred  its  utmost  depths.  The  best 
hotel  was  a  Blue  committee-room;  its  second  best  was  a 
Yellow  committee-room.  Big-wigs  talked  loud  of  their 
principles;  gamins  flaunted  rag  flags  in  the  gutters;  mys- 
terious strangers  haunted  its  tap-rooms.  Mr.  Brown  cut 
Mr.  Green  because  he  was  Yellow.  Mrs.  A.  dropped  her 
bosom  friend,  Mrs.  B.,  because  she  was  Blue.  The  Town 
Council  was  divided  against  itself,  and,  consequently, 
couldn't  stand  straight  on  its  legs  (a  charge,  by  the  way, 
often  brought  against  its  members  individually).  Mary 
the  kitchen-maid,  would  no  longer  "  walk  along  "  with 
James  the  milkman,  because  he  was  all  for  that  "  hugly 
Smith."  Cobblin,  the  shoemaker,  was  surprised  by  see- 
ing two  fivers  lying  snug  in  the  heel  of  a  Wellington ; 
and  Chalice,  the  rector,  was  startled  by  a  gentle 
hint  that  the  Deanery  of  Turtlefat  might  be  va- 
cant. 

"  Who  do  you  think  I'm  going  to  solicit  the  vote  from 
this  morning?"  said  Fitz  at  breakfast  two  or  three 
mornings  after. 

"Pottler,  of  the  Three  Kivgs,  I  hope,"  said  Beau, 
helping  himself  to  a  devil,  "  if  you  do  what  you  ought." 

"  The  Three  Kings  be  shot  I"  said  Fitz.  "  The  barmaid 
there  is  as  ugly  as  sin  and  forty,  I'm  certain.  He's  not 
an  eye  to  trade  to  keep  her;  a  pretty  face  at  a  bar  dis- 
poses of  numberless  shilling  glasses." 

"Old  Hops,  then;  and  do  remember  to  tell  him  his 
beer  is  better  than  Bass's,"  said  Beau,  whose  refractory 
client  gave  him  no  end  of  trouble. 

"  What !    that  beastly  stuff,  full  of  jack  ?     Oh !    con- 


BLUE   AND  YELLOW.  183 

found  it,  I  cau't  humbug  like  that;  'tisn't  my  line,  espe- 
cially with  those  canaille." 

"  The  devil  take  your  pride !"  retorted  Beau.  "  How 
do  you  expect  to  get  along  with  your  election,  when  it's 
such  a  piece  of  work  to  make  you  shake  hands  with  even 
a  respectable  butcher  or " 

"  Pah !  hold  your  tongue  !"  cried  the  Radical,  glanc- 
ing at  his  own  white  fingers.  "  I  like  the  hydra-headed 
to  have  all  the  bread  he  wants,  but  I  can't  bear  touching 
his  dirty  paw.  I'm  sure  I  kiss  the  girls,  Beau,  though, 
with  most  exemplary  perseverance " 

"  Rather  too  perseveringly,"  growled  the  exigeant 
Beau.  "  I  don't  think  it  tells  well  with  the  fathers,  and 
I'm  quite  sure  it  influences  husbands  the  wrong  way. 
You're  unexceptionable  with  your  equals,  but  Rumpunch 
herself  isn't  more  unmanageable  than  you  are  with  your 
inferiors.  I  always  notice  if  a  gentleman — I  mean  a 
thorough-bred  one — takes  up  democracy,  and  all  that 
in  opinions,  the  more  exclusive,  as  sure  as  a  gun,  does  he 
grow  in  his  actions.  He  may  put  on  the  bonnet  rouge 
with  the  people,  but  he'll  always  expect  the  people  to  doff 
theirs  to  him.  Well,  it's  human  nature,  I  suppose ;  we're 
all  anomalies " 

"For  Heaven's  sake,  don't  begin  to  moralise,  Beau," 
said  Fitz.  "  Of  all  the  abominations  that  that  pester  the 
earth,  the  didactic  style  is  the  worst.  Well!  will  you 
come  with  me  to  the  Larches  ?" 

"  The  where  ?"  shouted  Beau,  in  amazement. 

"  The  Larches;  where  the  Barnardistons  hang  out." 

Beau  dropped  some  cutlet,  en  route  to  his  lips,  off  his 
fork,  in  staring  at  Fitz.  "  Are  you  mad  ?  Why,  he's  on 
Verdant's  committee." 

"  What  of  that  ?    I've  walked  about  ten  entire  days  to 


184  BLUE  AND   YELLOW. 

meet  liis  daughter,  and  haven't  met  her;  sequitur,  I  shall 
call  there." 

'  Beau  gave  a  grunt  of  wonder  and  disgust.     "  Of  all 
the  cool  chaps,  I  do  think  you're  the  very  coolest." 

"  Of  course  I  am.     Have  you  only  now  found  it  out  ? 
King  the  bell,  Fan,  and  order  the  horses." 

"  Well,"  said  Beau,  with  a  touching  air  of  resignation, 
"if  you'd  keep   quiet,  and  do  as  you're  told,  I'd  bring 
you  in  as  sure  as  this  beer's  Brighton  Tipper;  bub  since 
you  will  act  for  yourself,  why,  if  you  lose  your  election,  / 
wash  my  hands  of  it." 

Up  to  the  Larches  rode  Fitz  and  I,  a  pretty  house  of 
very  white  stone,  and  with  very  green  Venetians— that 
tried  hard  to  look  like  an  Italian  villa  on  a  small  scale, 
and  failed  signally — standing  in  its  grounds  at  the  west 
end  of  Cantitborough. 

There  she  is,"  whispered  Fitz,  as  he  paced  up  the  car- 
riage drive.  True  enough,  stooping  over  a  bed  of  ver- 
bena, gardening  seduously,  with  Dauphin  barking  furi- 
ously round  her,  in  ecstatic  delight,  was  our  late  com- 
pagnon  de  voyage.  At  the  sound  of  our  horses'  hoofs  the 
poodle  rushed  at  us  after  the  manner  of  small  dogs,  and 
his  mistress  turned  round  to  see  the  cause  of  his  irrita- 
tion. Off  went  Fitz's  hat,  and  he  bowed  to  his  saddle- 
bow. At  the  same  moment  a  young  lady  came  out  of  a 
French  window,  and  called  "  Valencia !"  Dauphin'3  mis- 
tress threw  down  her  trowel,  obeyed  the  sivmmons,  and 
went  into  the  house;  not  without  a  bow  to  Fitz,  though. 
"  The  devil !  she  is-  Valencia,  and  engaged  to  that  owl, 
then,"  swore  Fitz.  "  I  say,  she  hasn't  one  bit  the  cut  of 
a  parson's  future,  has  she  ?  Upon  my  word  it's  a  devil- 
ish pity — horrid  waste  of  good  material — to  throw  her 
into  the  Church's  arms.  Never  mind,  though;  it  will  be 
the  more  fun  for  me.     I  shan't  only  have  a  flirtation,  but 


BLUE   AJSiD  YELLOW.  185 

the  fun  of  making  fat  little  Whitechurcli  jealous  into  the 
bargain,  which  will  be  a  little  more  currant-jelly  to  my 
hare." 

"  Glad  you  take  it  so  philosophically,  but  it  won't  do 
you  much  good  in  the  borough  to  flirt  with  their  pet 
preacher's  fiancee." 

"  Hold  your  tongue,  Fanny.  If  I  prefer  a  flirtation  to 
a  seat  in  the  Commons;  mayn't  I  indulge  my  preference?" 
said  the  candidate  for  Cantitborough,  throwing  his  bridle 
to  Soames,  as  a  Buttons,  that  one  wanted  a  microscope 
to  see  clearly,  opened  the  door,  and  ushered  us  into  the 
library  of  the  hottest  out-and-out  Tory  in  the  county. 

There  sat  old  Barnardiston  in  state,  a  tall,  plethoric- 
looking   fellow,  the   very  embodiment   of  conservatism, 
orthodoxy,  and  British  prejudice.     It  was  as  good  as  a 
play   to   see   his  face  when   the  Radical   candidate  was 
shown'  in,  and  to  see  Fitz,  with  his  most  nonchalant  yet 
most  courtly  air,  address  him,  and  solicit  his  vote,  as  if 
in  perfect  ignorance  that  Lord  Verdant's  proposer,  the 
Bluest  of  Blues,  Barnardiston,  who  looked  on  free  trade 
as  treason  to  the  commonwealth,  and  on  the  ballot  as  a 
device  of  Satan,  was  not  perfectly  d'accord  with  himself 
upon  politics.     The  old  gentleman  was  as  chilling  as  a 
chaperone's  "Good   evening!"  to  an   ineligible,  and,  of 
course,  proceeded   to  bow  us   out   with  a  good  deal  of 
grandiloquent  bosh  about  his  principles,  which  he  was 
evidently  very  injured  to  think  had  not  been  too  widely 
known  to  have  prevented  Fitz's  intrusion.     Fitz  was  non- 
plussed; his  call  did  not  promise  to  be  very  productive. 
The  old  Tory  was  unpropitious,  and  there  was  no  sign 
of  the  girls  whatever.     He  was  just  going   to  take   his 
leave  in  despair,  when,  by  Jove !  as  luck  would  have  it, 
down  came  all  at  once  such  a  shower  of  hailstones,  such 
claps  of  thunder,  such  a  conflict  of  the  elements,  as  the 


186  BLUE   AND  YELLOW. 

novelwriters  say.  that,  out  of  common  courtesy,  the  old 
boy,  though  it  was  plain  to  see  that  he  looked  on  us  as  a 
brace  of  the  most  impudent  scoundrels  he  had  ever  come 
across,  was  obliged  to  ask  us  if  we  would  wait  till  it  was 
over.  Fitz  thanked  him,  and  said  he  would,  in  his  pleas- 
ant, easy  manner,  as  if  he  and  the  great  Tory  were  the 
best  possible  friends;  and  (very  stiffly,  though,)  Barnar- 
dieton,  fairly  let  in  for  the  entertainment  of  the  danger- 
ous skeptic  and  socialist,  asked  us  to  go  into  the  draw- 
ing-room. 

"  Bravo !  brass  and  pluck  always  win,"  whispered  Fitz 
aside  to  me,  as  the  door  was  opened,  and  we  saw  the 
identical  Valencia  feeding  a  brace  of  love-birds  in  the 
window,  her  sister,  quite  unlike  her — a  stout,  square, 
business-looking  girl — writing  district  papers,  with  a  lot 
of  tracts  round  her,  and  their  mamma  reading  in  a 
dormouse. 

Breathing  an  inward  prayer  for  the  continuance  of 
the  thunderstorm,  Fitz  sat  himself  down  ( just  under  the 
love-birds,)  and  proceeded  to  make  himself  agreeable — 
especially  to  the  betrothed  of  the  incumbent  of  St. 
Hildebrande's.  You  would  have  thought  him  the  "  en- 
fant de  la  maison  "  for  the  last  ten  years  at  least,  to  hear 
him  talk  news  and  literature  with  madame,  fun  and 
ornithology  with  mademoiselle,  utterly  regardless  that 
Barnardiston  was  keeping  a  gloomy  silence,  and  the 
district  collector  looking  glum  on  her  sister's  vivacious 
chat,  probably  with  the  eye  of  a  belle-sceur  to  the  absent 
Whitechurch's  interests.  He  amused  them  so  well,  and 
was  so  well  amused  himself,  that  the  sun  had  stared 
him  in  the  face  for  •full  twenty  minutes,  and  the  birds 
were  telling  everybody  the  storm  was  gone,  before  Fitz 
thought  proper  to  find  out  that  it  was  "beginning  to 
clear  up  " — a  fact  so  undeniable  that  he  had  nothing  for 


BLUE  AND  YELLOW.  187 

it  but  to  make  his  adieux,  after  offering  to  lend  Mrs. 
Barnardiston  some  book  or  other  she  wanted;  and  when 
the  lodge  gates  closed  behind  us,  Fitz  had  a  good  shout 
of  laughter. 

"Now,  then,  Lady  Fan,  didn't  I  manage  that  glori- 
ously?" 

"  Yes !  I  never  doubted  your  powers  of  impudence 
yet;  but  whether  your  election " 

"  Confound  my  election  !  It  was  worth  losing  fifty 
votes  only  to  see  that  old  boy's  face  when  I  asked  for  his 
support;  and,  by  George!  isn't  she  pretty?  To  see  all 
that  going  to  Whitecbufch  is  rather  a  trial  of  one's 
patience.  What  in  the  world  was  she  thinking  of  to 
throw  herself  away  on  him  ?  A  little  flirtation  will  be 
only  common  humanity  to  her,  poor  girl !  Did  you  see 
how  mischievous  she  looked  when  she  saw  me  ?  The 
'  good-for-nothing '  was  lurking  in  her  mind,  I  bet  you." 

"  In  pleasant  contrast  with  the  good  in  everything  of 
her  future  sposo.  The  cardinal  virtues  ain't  relished  by 
women." 

Fitz  laughed  as  he  pricked  Eumpunch  into  a  gallop. 
"  She's  a  dashing  little  thing;  I  must  have  some  fun  with 
her.  I  won't  quite  spoil  her  matrimonial  speculations, 
though,  for  I  shan't  be  inclined  to  put  it  au  serieux,  like 
the  Rev.  Augustine.  Fish  out  the  young  fellow,  Fan; 
he's  a  Cambridge  man  ;  you  can  soon  scrape  acquain- 
tance. Brothers  are  very  useful  sometimes,  though 
occasionally  uncommonly  meddling  and  disagreeable. 
By  Jove !  look  there.  Confound  it,  there's  Jimmy ! 
What  in  the  world  is  he  doing  here  ?" 

"Hallo, 'old  boy!  how  are  you?"  said  the  man  thus 
apostrophised,  Jimmy  Villars,  a  chum  of  Fitz's.  "  I've 
heard  lots  about  you,  Randolph.  You're  turning  Can- 
titborough  upside  down,  and  I'm  come  to  help  you  ?" 


188  BLUE   AND   YELLOW. 

"That's  right.  Nobody  more  welcome.  "Where  are 
you  staying?" 

"  At  the  Levisons' — you  know  them.  No  ?  Then  you 
shall  immediately.  Levison  was  a  great  yachting  man. 
He's  range  and  married  now;  a  very  pleasant  girl  hooked 
and  finished  him.  They're  county  people  and  thorough- 
going Liberals,  so  you  won't  frighten  'em,  though  they 
are  connected  with  that  Arch-Blue  old  Barnardiston." 

"  By  Jove !"  thought  Fitz,  "  '  if  a  man  takes  luck  by 
the  horns,  don't  it  always  favor  him  !'  Introduce  me, 
then,  Jimmy,"  he  said,  aloud  ;  "I  want  a  little  fun.  I'm 
bored  to  death  with  committees,  canvassing,  meetings, 
dinners,  speechfying,  and  letter-writing.  Then  the  Can- 
titburghers  are  such  awful  owls,  and  one's  aims  and  ends 
do  seem  so  small  when  one's  mixed  up  with  the  bigotry 
of  prejudice  and  the  tomfoolery  of  party,  that  I'm  grow- 
ing heartily  sick  of  the  whole  thing  already." 


m. 

CUPID    GIVES    BEAU    MOKE   TROUBLE    THAN   ALL    THE   BLUES. 

Poor  Beau  was  distracted.  Fitz  had  been  a  refractory 
client  enough  before,  so  far  as  obstinately  speaking  his 
mind,  telling  the  truth,  tilting  against  his  voters'  opin- 
ions, and  entirely  refusing  to  butter  anybody,  went;  but 
after  he  met  Jimmy  Villars,  Beau  had  ten  times  more 
trouble,  for  while  little  Verdant  was  calling  at  every 
house  and  conquering  them  all  with  his  title,  and  Le 
Hoop  Smith  was  giving  to  all  the  charities,  and  quoting 
the  "  Christian  Year  "  largely  to  the  clergy,  and  giving  a 


BLUE   AND   YELLOW.  1S9 

new  lectern  to  St.  Hildebrand,  and  Salter  was  delighting 
the  ten-pound  men  with  coarse  jokes,  and  flinging 
guineas  and  stout  away  recklessly,  Fitz,  ten  to  one,  was 
either  bothering  poor  Beau  not  to  bribe,  instead  of  let- 
ting things  go  on  quietly;  or  talking  rationalism  and  lib- 
eralism, high  over  the  head  of  some  startled  constituent 
(who  came  off  from  the  interview  with  the  decision  that 
Mr.  Fitzhardinge  was  as  eminently  "dangerous"  as 
O'Brien,  and  that  he  would  give  a  plumper  to  Lord  Ver- 
dant;) or  playing  billiards,  and  going  eel-netting  with 
Villars  and  the  Levisons;  or  sitting  in  Edith  Levison's 
drawing-room  with  her  and  her  cousin,  Valencia  Barnar- 
diston.  Nevertheless,  Beau,  the  sharpest-witted,  neatest- 
handed  agent  that  ever  lived,  worked  on  with  the  settled 
despair  of  a  man  baling  water  out  of  a  leaking  ship  with  a 
teacup,  and  really  grew  quite  worried  and  anxious  in  his 
personal  appearance,  tolling  for  the  devil-may-care  Rad- 
ical, for  whom,  ever  since  Fitz  pounded  him  on  their 
first  introduction  at  Eton,  he  had  always  entertained  a 
sort  of  dogged  attachment,  something,  he  used  to  say, 
like  that  of  an  aged  grandmother  for  the  "poor  dear 
boy "  who  plagues  her  life  out  with  crackers,  and  goes 
more  wrong  than  all  his  brothers  put  together. 

The  Levisons  were,  as  Jimmy  had  promised,  very 
pleasant,  and  liked  larks  and  fun  as  all  pleasant  people 
do;  and  as  soon  as  we  were  introduced  to  them,  made 
Fitz  and  me,  and  Beau  too,  if  he  had  had  time  for  such 
puerilities,  welcome  to  Elm  Court,  Levison's  place,  just 
four  miles  from  Cantitborough,  whenever  we  liked  to  go 
there.  We  went  pretty  often,  for  Levison's  wife  was  a 
merry  little  thing,  and  generally  had  one  or  two  choice 
spirits  like  herself  driven  over  to  spend  the  day;  among 
them,  her  cousin  and  favorite,  the  fiancee  of  the  Rev. 
Auguirtine  Whitechurch,  a  fat,  slick  man  of  large  Easter 


100  BLUE  AND   YELLOW. 

offerings,  and  touching  testimonials;  of  good  family,  and 
wide  (Cautitborough)  fame,  whom  everybody  praised, 
though  nobody  Liked,  as  a  sort  of  voucher  for  their  own 
religion.  I  have  seen  a  good  many  serpents  and  rabbits, 
rats  and  beagles,  doves  and  tiger-cats  chained  together, 
but  I  never  saw  any  pair  who  seemed  to  be  more  uncon- 
genial than  Valencia  and  her  pretendu.  She  was  lively, 
high-spirited,  loved  fun,  parties,  and  mischief  as  much 
she  hated  Dorcas  meetings,  missionary  reports,  and  in- 
teresting converted  beggars,  while  he  was  Low  Church 
— i.  e.  looked  upon  life  as  a  miserable  pilgrimage  that  it 
was  our  duty  to  make  with  the  hardest  possible  peas  in 
our  shoes;  wanted  a  wife  the  embodiment  of  that  dread- 
ful individual,  Hannah  More's  "  Lucilla,"  and  worried 
poor  little  Val's  very  life  out  with  animadversions  on  her 
pursuits,  amusements,  and  friends.  He  came  sometimes 
with  her  to  Elm  Court,  where  he  had  as  chilling  an  effect 
as  the  inevitable  rain  on  the  swell  Chiswick  toilettes,  and 
where  he  and  Fitz  took  an  instantaneous  dislike  to  each 
other,  and  kept  each  other  at  bay  like  a  cat  and  a  span- 
iel. Val,  though  she  was  engaged,  was  the  centre  of 
attraction.  Doesn't  the  green  ticket  "Sjld"  often  make 
the  dilettanti  rave  over  a  picture  in  the  Royal  Academy 
they  might  not  have  noticed  without  it  ?  Jimmy  Villars 
adored  her,  en  passant ;  little  Lord  Verdant,  whose 
paternal  acres  joined  Levison's,  bid  fair  to  lose  his  silly 
little  boyish  head  about  her — no  great  loss,  by  the  way; 
and  Fitz — Fitz  always  made  himself  agreeable  to  any 
charming  woman  he  came  across,  no  more  able  to  help  it 
than  Rover  to  help  pointing  when  he  scents  a  covey;  and 
while  the  Great  Blue  was  throwing  his  influence  into 
the  scale  to  worst  the  Radical  candidate,  the  Radical 
candidate  was  tranquilly  engaged  in  riding,  singing, 
waltzing,  and  talking,  three  days  out  of  the  week,  with 


BLUE   AND  YELLOW.  191 

Miss  Valencia,  at  Elm  Court,  where  Levison,  having 
been  a  very  high  match  for  his  little  niece  Edith,  Barnar- 
diston  thought  it  impossible  for  Val  to  come  to  any 
grief,  and  encouraged  her  visits  despite  Whitechurch's 
chagrin  at  them. 

"Do  you  think  you  will  win  your  election,  Fitz?" 
asked  Villars  one  evening  after  dining  there,  and  we 
were  strolling  over  the  grounds  afterwards  in  the  twi- 
light. 

"Haven't  an  idea,  my  dear  fellow,"  responded  Fitz 
cheerfully,  "  and  am  not  sure  that  I  wish,  for  the  Cantit- 
burghers  are  such  awful  idiots,  that  to  represent  them 
faithfully  I  should  be  compelled  to  buy  a  pair  of  ass's 
ears,  like  Bottom,  which  might  produce  a  peculiar  sensa- 
tion in  the  House." 

"Especially,"  smiled  Valencia,  "as  the  cap  would  fit 
so  many  of  its  members." 

"  Those  that  are  '  good  for  nothing '  included,"  whis- 
pered Fitz,  mischievously. 
She  laughed  and  colored. 

"  Oh,  I  had  hoped  you  had  not  recognised  me.  "What 
a  shame  to  keep  it  perdu  all  this  time.  I  might  have 
been  begging  your  pardon  in  a  long  oration  every  time 
we  met.  I  shall  take  care  how  I  talk  to  strangers  again 
in  a  train." 

"  Pray  don't.  I'm  exceptional  in  my  taste,  I  know,  but 
I  do  like  truths  sometimes,  even  if  they  hit  hard.  Don't 
you?" 

"Yes;  but  I  fancy  my  truths  didn't  hit  you  severely 
at  all.  I  think  I  told  you  you  were  condemned  as  a 
skeptic,  a  socialist,  and  a  republican;  and,  since  all  great 
men  have  been  classed  into  one  of  the  three,  you  should 
be  super-excellent  to  combine  the  trio." 
Fitz  laughed. 


192  BLUE   AND   YELLOW. 

"I  am  quite  content  to  be  condemned  by  Cantit- 
borough  to  any  amount,  so  long  as  you  don't  find  me  ut- 
terly good  for  nothing." 

She  looked  up  at  him  merrily. 

"  Certainly;  you  are  good  for  waltzing,  billiards,  and 
German  songs;  those  are  all  the  duties  I  require  of  you, 
so  I  don't  ask  any  further."    , 

"I  only  wish  you  required  more,"  said  Fitz,  softly. 
"  I  am  sorry  you  think  of  me  as  a  passing  acquaintance" 
chatted  with  in  a  ball-room,  and  parted  from  without 
regret,  to  meet  no  more  in  the  eddies  of  society." 

"I  never  said  that  I  considered  you  so,"  interrupted 
Valencia,  hurriedly,  snapping  the  roses  off  their  stems  as 
they  walked  along. 

"But  you  implied  it;  and  if  you  knew  the  pain  your 
light  words  cause,  you  woidd  not  speak  them." 

She  was  silent,  so  was  he.  It  was  part  of  Fitz's  code 
of  warfare  to  leave  his  sentences  to  bear  their  fruit. 

"  Valencia,  you  are  extremely  imprudent  to  be  out  in 
this  damp  atmosphere  in  such  a  light  evening  dress," 
said  the  Eev.  Augustine  at  her  elbow. 

"This  exquisite  evening!  Thank  you  for  your  care, 
but  I  don't  belong  to  the  sanitary-mad  individuals,"  re- 
plied Valencia,  impatiently,  "  I  never  cloak  up,  so  never 
take  cold;  if  I  do,  I  will  apply  to  you  for  some  of  those 
extraordinary  little  hundreds  and  thousands  you  carry 
in  the  morocco  case,  and  physic  the  parish  with,  in  alter- 
nate doses  of  texts  and  globules." 

There  was  a  sarcastic  curl  on  Miss  Val's  lips  which  the 
popular  preacher  did  not  quite  relish,  for  he  was  an 
apostle  of  that  arch-humbug  homoeopathy,  firmly  be- 
lieved in  a  "millionth  part;"  in  its  strength  being  in- 
creased by  dilution;  in  the  virtue  of  infinitesimal  doses, 
and  all  the  rest  of  it;  and  was  keenly  alive  to  auy  ridi- 


BLUE   AND  YELLOW.  193 

cule  on  the  point,  as  people  are  when  a  point  is  unten- 
able. 

"  Ah !  do  you  believe  in  those  little  comfits,  Mr.  White- 
church  ?"  said  Fitz,  taking  up  the  warfare.  "  You  save 
the  souls  and  the  bodies  en  meme  temps — a  very  nice 
arrangement,  I  dare  say.  It  must  be  delightful  to  prac- 
tise the  two  healing  arts  at  once;  and  then,  if  you  should 
ever  chance  to  mistreat  a  case,  it  wouldn't  so  much  mat- 
ter, because  you'd  have  made  sure  your  patient  was  "  fit 
to  die,  whether  he  was  willing  or  not.  Homoeopathy's  a 
capital  thing  for  trade.  I'm  very  glad  to  see  it  sj^read- 
ing;  they  say  the  undertakers  bid  fair  to  be  some  of  the 
wealthiest  men  in  the  kingdom  through  it,  and  the  sugar- 
bakers  thrive  amazingly.  You  saw  in  the  paper  the 
other  day — didn't  you  ? — that  one  of  'em  gave  the  quan- 
tity of  little  hundreds  and  thousands — some  ton  weight, 
I  think— he  had  made  for  one  of  your  great  homoeopaths 
■ — your  men  who  buy  a  diploma  for  twenty  pounds  in 
Germany,  and  set  up  here  with  a  tiger  and  a  practice  as 
minute  as  their  pet  medicine,  and  knowledge  as  infini- 
tesimal as  the  power  of  their  doses." 

"  It  requires  no  wit  to  jest  upon  deep  subjects,"  said 
Whitechurch,  loftily.  "  The  holiest  topic,  the  gravest 
matter,  can  of  course  be  turned  into  ridicule." 

"  If  it  is  weak,  certainly,"  returned  Fitz,  with  a  calm, 
courteous   air. 

"  No,  sir !"  said  the  pet  parson,  pompously.  "  Not  if 
it  is  weak,  but  if  its  opponents  are  bigoted  and  coarse- 
mouthed.  Eidicule  was  thrown  upon  Moses's  divining- 
rod " 

"  And  he  turned  it  into  a  serpent,  and  made  it  eat  up 
all  the  other  rods,  which  was  ingenious,  if  not  Christian," 
said  Fitz,  wickedly. 

"I  refuse  to  discuss  such  subjects  in   such   a  tone 

9 


'J 


194:  BLUE  AND   YELLOW. 

returned  "Whitechurch,  with  extreme  severity.     "  Homoeo- 
pathy is  a  great,  enlightened,  rational,  and  noble  discov- 
ery in  science,  and  does  not  require  any  defence." 
"  It  can't  make  any,"  murmured  Fitz. 
"Whitechurch  turned  from  him  with  immeasurable  dis- 
dain. 

"  My  dear  Valencia  allow  me  to  say  you  are  exceeding- 
ly unwise  not  to  wear  some  hat,  or  cloak,  or  something 

warmer  than  that  flimsy  dress.     Careful  wrapping " 

"Is  always  followed  by  weak  health,"  laughed  Valen- 
cia. "  We  know  what  the  Sybarites  were,  and  the  Eng- 
lish will  be  as  bad  if  they  wrap  up  their  children,  and  diet 
and  frighten  themselves,  as  that  estimable  lady  in  Two- 
pence a  Week  is  so  fond  of  advising." 

"  But  old  maids'  children  are  proverbial,"  laughed 
Fitz.  "Of  all  mortals  do  I  pity  most  an  unlucky  small 
in  the  clutches  of  a  well-meaning,  anxious  maiden  aunt, 
who  is  primed  with  prescriptions,  won't  let  him  stir  out 
if  there's  no  '  ozone  '  in  the  air,  or  a  breath  of  north  wind; 
measures  his  warm  young  blood  by  her  own  chill  veins, 
and  loads  him  with  flannel  like  a  gouty  old  man.  Pretty 
mess  she'll  make  of  him  !  If  it's  a  boy,  he'll  go  down 
under  the  first  breath  of  east  wind;  and  if  it's  a  girl, 
she'll  grow  up  an  invalid,  good  for  nothing,  a  misery  to 
herself  and  everybody  else,  with  neither  color  in  her 
cheeks  nor  use  in  her  limbs." 

Valencia  laughed,  and  her  glance  compared,  disparag- 
ingly enough  to  the  clergyman,  Fitz's  sinewy,  vigorous 
frame,  winch  would  have  lifted  ten  stone  like  a  feather, 
with  the  fat,  sleek,  feminine,  puffy  form  of  the  popular 
preacher,  as  sue  answered, 

"  We  should  soon  see  an  end  to  the  hardy,  strong-mus- 
cled, sport-loving  Britons.  People  now-a-days  study  san- 
itary rules  till  they  study  all  their  health  away.    I  confess 


BLUE   AND    YELLOW.  195 

I've  no  patience  with  those  lady  dictators,  snch  as  that 
strong-minded  political  economist  who  writes  such  awful 
advice  from  her  'Farm  of  Three  Inches.'  Wants  us  to 
leave  off  high  heels — I  wonder  what  for  ? — and  wear 
wretched,  poking  straw  bonnets,  so  that  nobody  can  see 
our  faces,  (convenient  to  those  who  have  faces  that  won't 
bear  looking  at,  I  dare  say,)  and  would  .squeeze  all  ro- 
mance out  of  everything,  and  would  sweep  all  beauty  off 
the  earth  if  she  could.  Why  mayn't  we  have  a  pretty 
thing,  if  it  isn't  useful?  Our  eyebrows  are  no  particu- 
lar    use,    but    we     should    look    very    funny    without 

them." 

"  I  quite  agree  with  you;  I  hate  utilitarians.    It  is  your 

oracle  from  the  '  Farm '  who  laments  the  sensual  tenden- 
cies of  schoolboys  because  they  like  rabbit  suppers  and 
tuck.  I  wouldn't  give  much  for  a  boy  who  didn't.  Those 
very  spiritual  individuals  are  nasty  ones  to  deal  with; 
they're  so  exalted  themselves,  they  have  no  sympathy 
with  one's  natural  weaknesses,  and  as  they  pretend  to 
go  in  for  no  errors  themselves,  of  course  won't  pity  them 
in  other  people." 

"  We  are  to  condemn  errors,  not  to  sympathise  with 
them,"  snapped  Whitechurch. 

"  Indeed!"  said  Fitz,  carelessly.  "  When  I  find  a  man 
free  from  all  errors  himself,  I'll  let  him  find  fault  with 
another — and  I  shan't  chance  on  him  for  many  a  year." 

The  clergyman  smiled — not  pleasantly. 

"  All  the  borough  are  acquainted  with  your  latitudina- 
rian  opinions,  Mr.  Fitzhardinge." 

"  Are  they  ?"  laughed  Fitz.  "They  must  be  rather  a 
treat  to  Cantitborough,  after  all  the  conservative  oratory 
it  has  expended  on  it.  By  the  way,  Mr.  Whitechurch, 
that  election  sermon  of  yours  last  Sunday  was  an  admir- 
able hit.     I  heard  Lord  Cockadoodle  sav  that  he  wished 


196  BLUE  AND  YELLOW 

old  Ewen  would  kick   off    and  leave   Dtmslop   in   his 
gift." 

Whitechurch  colored.  The  sermon  was  a  gross  piece 
of  toadyism,  and  though  he  did  keep  his  affections  on 
things  above,  he  couldn't  help  sometimes  taking  a  glance 
downwards,  where  the  fat  living  of  Dunslope  was  among 
the  prominent  points  that  caught  his  eye. 

Valencia  sighed  quickly,  turned  round,  and  said  some- 
thing about  going  into  the  house. 

"  Do,"  said  Fitz,  bending  towards  her.  "  Let  us  go 
and  try  those  German  airs." 

Go  they  did,  and  Fitz's  cornet,  which  he  played  as  well 
as  Kcenig,  sent  out  its  mellow  notes  in  a  concert  of  sweet 
sounds,  which  was  anything  but  harmonious  to  the  ears 
of  the  incumbent  of  St.  Hildebrande,  as  he  walked  up 
and  down  before  the  drawinig-room  windows,  listening  to 
Caroline,  who,  regarding  him  already  as  a  brother,  took 
the  liveliest  interest  in  his  parochial  business  affairs, 
doubtless  with  the  kindly  view  of  covering  her  sister's 
short-comings  in  that  line. 

"Poor  dear  Valencia!"  I  heard  her  sigh,  as  she  passed 
me  when  I  was  smoking  on  the  terrace  with  Jimmy. 
"  Don't  be  annoyed  with  her,  Augustine.  She  does  flirt  a 
little,  perhaps;  but  they  say  all  pretty  women  do.  I'm 
not  tempted,  you  know;  I  am  plain  and  unpretending; 
but,  thank  Heaven  !  my  thoughts  are  not  fixed  on  this 
world,  or  on  men's  idle  admiration.  Don't  be  vexed  with 
her;  she  is  thoughtless,  I  am  afraid." 

"  But  I  am  extremely  annoyed,"  said  the  parson's  dic- 
tatorial tones.  "  I  spoke  to  her  the  other  day  about  fix- 
ing the  time  for  our  marriage.  I  require  a  wife;  I  cannot 
attend  to  the  schools,  and  the  cook  wastes  a  great  deal; 
but  she  put  me  off — would  give  me  no  answer.  I  am  not 
to  be  treated  so  lightly ;  and  as  for  her  dancing,  and  sing- 


BLUE  AND  YELLOW  197 

ing,  and  riding  with  those  idle  men,  especially  with  that 
wild,  dissolute  Fitzkardinge,  it  is  intolerable,  unbearable, 

most  indecorous " 

"  I  know  it  is  very  sad,"  chimed  in  the  gentle  Cary. 
"  But  dear  Val  never  had  any  due  sense  of  the  responsi- 
ble position  your  wife  will  occupy.    She  is  careless,  world- 

iy — " 

Here  they  went  out  of  hearing,  and  I  was  no  further  en- 
lightened, but  went  into  the  di'awing-room,  where  they 
were  all  playing  vingt-et-un,  and  called  me  to  join  them: 
and  I  thought,  as  I  saw  Valencia,  got  up  very  becoming- 
ly, with  her  large  hazel  eyes  full  of  animation  and  fun, 
Verdant  gazing  at  her  sentimentally  on  her  left,  and  Fitz 
discoursing  with  eloquent  glances,  and  facile  compliment, 
on  her  right,  her  light  laugh  ringing  through  the  room, 
and  her  merry  talk  keeping  all  going,  that  it  was  a  thou- 
sand pities  for  her  to  be  imprisoned  in  the  sombre  atmos- 
phere of  St.  Hildebrande's  rectory,  under  the  cheerless 
regime  of  St.  Hildebrande's  incumbent,  whose  gloomy 
doctrine  would  infallibly  silence  the  laughter,  hush-hush 
the  jest,  burn  the  cards,  interdict  the  waltzing — in  short, 
crush  all  the  native  song  out  of  the  poor  bird  he  had 
netted. 

"  I  say,  old  boy,"  said  I,  when  we  were  having  a  pipe 
that  night  in  the  dining-room  at  Hollywood,  "  make  hay 
while  the  sun  shines;  you  won't  have  much  longer  to  flirt." 

"  Why  not  ?"  said  Fitz,-  sharply. 

"Because  Whitechurch  wants  to  get  married;  not  from 
any  particular  penchant  for  the  state,  or  any  fresh  acces 
of  love,  but  because  his  girls'  schools  want  looking  after, 
and  his  cook's  ruining  him." 

"  The  fool !"  ejaculated  Fitz,  with  a  giant  cloud  of  Cav- 
endish; "why  doesn't  he  go  to  the  register-office  and  hire 
a  seamstress  and  a  housekeeper  ?" 


198  BLUE  AND  YELLOW. 

"Possibly  because  a  wife  will  combine  both,  and  be 
cheaper.  Barnardiston  will  give  his  daughters  ten  thou- 
sand pounds  each  if  he  like  his  sons-in-law.  Fancy  Va- 
lencia arming  herself  with  needles  and  thread,  and  teach- 
ing half  a  dozen  charity-girls  to  make  pocket-handker- 
chiefs for  Ojibbeways,  and  going  into  her  kitchen  to  see 
that  dear  Augustine's  curry  is  peppered  to  a  T,  or  that 
the  cook  doesn't  encourage  the  policeman " 

"  Faugh !  Be  quiet,  can't  you  ?"  growled  Fitz,  in  in- 
tense disgust.  "  You  might  talk  with  just  as  much  cool- 
ness of  Rumpunch  being  set  to  run  in  a  costermonger's 
cart.  The  idea  of  the  girl  throwing  herself  away  on  that 
white-chokered  humbug !  "What  on  earth  could  make  her 
accept  him  ?" 

"First  offer,"  interrupted  Beau;  "couldn't  tell  she'd 
get  another." 

"Pooh!  nonsense;  at  her  age  girls  ain't  hard  up  in 
that  way.  If  she  were  thirty  she  might  have  been  des- 
perate; very  rusty  hooks  are  snapped  up  when  there's 
no  longer  a  chance  of  silver  ones,  but  at  nineteen " 

"  Hooks  of  all  kinds  are  snapped  at  by  all  ages,"  inter- 
rupted Beau  again,  "  and  you've  said  so  scores  of  times, 
Fitz,  when  it  suited  you,  and  your  perceptions  weren't 
clouded.  "Women  are  always  mad  to  be  married.  Heaven 
knows  why  they  trouble  themselves  to  tell  the  girls  at  the 
end  of  the  marriage  service  not  to  be  afraid,  with  any 
amazement;  there  never  was  more  needless  waste  of 
words,  for  I  never  knew  any  of  the  crinolines  who  didn't 
catch  at  a  wedding-ring  as  Rover  catcbes  at  a  mutton- 
bone." 

Fitz  was  quiet,  puffing  away  with  as  much  energy  as  if 
he  were  smoking  W7hitechurch,  as  Bugeaud  smoked  the 
Algeria  es. 

"It  does  puzzle  me,  though,"  said  I,  "how  Val,  with 


BLUE   AND   YELLOW.  199 

the  pick  of  the  county,  could  choose  that  parson.  She 
don't  like  him,  I  fancy." 

"  Like  him !"  cried  Fitz,  with  immeasurable  scorn, 
"  How  should  she  ?  An  ugly  brute,  with  the  pluck  of  a 
chicken,  and  as  sour  as  beer  after  a  thunderstorm!" 

"Don't  call  your  spiritual  pastors  and  masters  bad 
names,  Fitz,"  said  Beau.  "You  keep  me  in  hourly  ter- 
ror, for  if  you  have  a  row  with  the  Cantitburghers'  pet 
preacher,  it'll  be  all  up  with  your  election." 

"  I  shan't  have  a  row  with  him,"  sneered  Fitz,  with 
much  contempt.  "  I  flirt  with  her  because  she  amuses 
me,  but  if  she  likes  the  parson,  she's  welcome  to  him  for 
me." 

Though  she  was  so  very  welcome  to  him,  I  heard  Fitz 
in  his  room  (the  room  is  next  to  mine,  and  the  walls  are 
lath  and  plaster,)  mutter  to  himself,  as  he  undressed, 
"What  the  devil  does  she  tie  herself  to  that  fool  for?"  a 
question  to  which  I  do  not  suppose  either  his  pipe,  or  his 
bed-candle,  or  Rover,  who  always  sleeps  by  his  bedside, 
or  the  harvest  moon  that  was  looking  through  the  win- 
dow, vouchsafed  him  any  reply. 


rv. 


THE   RADICAL     CANDIDATE    BEATS   THE    POPULAR    PREACHER   OUT 

OF    THE   FIELD. 

The  Larches  was,  of  course,  forbidden  ground  to  Fitz. 
He  did  call  there  with  the  book  for  Mrs.  Barnardiston, 
and  was  received  very  cordially  by  that  lady,  but  in  the 
evening  received  a  note  froru  the  old  Tory  thanking  him 


200  BLUE  AND   YELLOW. 

for  his  courtesy,  but  saying  that  at  least  until  the  "  com- 
ing important  contest"  was  decided,  he  thought  acquain- 
tance, since  their  opinions  were  so  opposite,  had  better 
not  continue.     That  was  a  settler;  Fitz,  with  all  the  brass 
in  the  kingdom,  could  not  push  himself  in  after   that, 
especially  as  Fitz  would  not  make  himself  cheap  for  a 
kingdom.     Nevertheless,  sometimes  when  Valencia  was 
not  at  Elm  Court,  he  would  find  occasion  to  ride  past  the 
Larches,  Valencia   being   given   to    amateur   gardening, 
which   generally  consisted  in   gathering  the  flowers,  or 
throwing  guelder  roses  at  Dauphin,  and  a   very  pretty 
sight  she  was  when  she  was  so  occupied,  though  Caroline 
considered  it  childish,  and  "Whitechurch  waste  of  time. 
By   Jove!    if  one  may  not  dawdle  a   little  dine  on  the 
road  gathering  the  flowers  one  finds  in  life — and  precious 
few  there  are ! — what  earthly  use,  I  wonder,  do  the  flow- 
ers grow  there  for?     Past  the  Larches  we  were  riding 
one  evening  after  dinner,  having  spent  all  day  in  election 
business  that  had  bored  us  both  to  death,  and  very  slowly 
was  Eumpunch  pacing  under  the  shadow  of  the  shrub- 
beries that  divided  the   stronghold   of  "Blue"  opinion 
from  the  high  road.     Just  opposite  a  break  in  the  labur- 
nums and  hawthorns  that  gave  a  view  through  a  white 
gate  into  the  garden,  Rumpunch  had,  or  was  supposed  to 
have  a  nasty  stone  in  his  foot — a  stone  that  a  man  who 
adored  horseflesh  as  Fitz  did  was  bound  to  look  after. 
The  stone  took  some  moments  to  find — indeed  I  am  uncer- 
tain that  it  icat  found  after  all — but  while  Fitz  was  examin- 
ing the  off  hoof,  through  the  trees  we  perceived  White- 
church  and  his  fiancee.     "Whitechurch  looked  more  pomp- 
ous than  usual,  and  the  serene  brow  that  the  ladies  of  his 
parish  raved  about  was  certainly  contracted.     Val  looked 
excited,  and  rather  ready  to  cry.     They  drew  near  the 
gate,  not  being  able  to  see  us  for  the  trees,  and  we  caught 


BLUE   AND   YELLOW.  201 

the  clergyman's  last  words — very  stiff  and  icy  they  were, 
too. 

"  You  will  think  over  what  I  have  said,  Valencia,  and 
I  expect  you  to  pay  some  attention  to  it.     Good  night." 

And  Augustine  bent  his  head  over  his  stiff  choker,  and 
touched  Val's  forehead  with  his  lips  in  as  cool  a  sort  of 
manner  as  a  man  kisses  a  plain  sister.  Valencia  gave  not 
the  slightest  resj)onse.  Wkitechurch  swung  the  gate 
open  and  passed  down  the  road  with  his  back  to  us.  Val 
stood  still  with  her  eyes  on  the  ground,  in  a  reverie ;  then 
she  .caught  Dauphin  up,  kissed  him,  burst  into  tears  as 
she  bent  over  the  dog,  and  walked  away  through  the 
trees.  I  glanced  at  Fitz.  His  teeth  were  set  like  a  mas- 
tiff's, and  he  looked  after  Whitechurch  as  if  he  longed  to 
deliver  from  his  left  shoulder,  and  floor  the  retreating 
figure. 

"Very  paternal,  wasn't  he  ?"  said  I.  "  You'd  have  im- 
proved the  occasion  better  than  that,  Fitz." 

"  Curse  the  fellow !"  muttered  the  Radical  candidate. 
"  I  just  wish  I  had  him  out  for  a  couple  of  rounds  on  a 
quiet  morning — a  hypocritical  idiot,  that'll  worry  all  her 
young  life  out  of  her." 

With  which  disconnected  remark,  and  sundry  smoth- 
ered curses,  the  sight  of  the  farewell  having  seemingly 
stirred  him  into  mighty  wrath,  Fitz  sprang  on  Rumpunch, 
and  tore  over  the  roads  at  a  pace  fit  to  win  the  Grand 
Military.  When  he  got  home  he  vented  it  in  pipes  and 
whisky,  and  Beau  looked  at  him  as  a  man  might  look  on 
a  pet  hound,  that  he  feared  was  going  in  for  hydrophobia. 

"  Something's  come  to  Fitz,"  said  Beau  anxiously,  "  for 
he's  just  signed  me  a  1000/.  check  without  a  word;  and 
I  know  he  wouldn't  have  given  it  to  me  to  corrupt  the 
people  with  without  some  bother,  if  he'd  known  what  he 
was  doing." 

9* 


202  BLUE   AND   YELLOW. 

"  I'm  going  over  to  Levison's,  Beau,"  said  he  at  break- 
fast next  day.  "We're  to  drive  over  to  the  Chase,  for 
a  sketching  party;  will  you  come?" 

"  I?"  growled  Beau.  "I  should  think  I've  something 
better  to  do;  if  I  hadn't,  the  figure  at  your  poll  would 
be  an  O.  The  idea  of  a  man's  coming  down  to  stand  for 
a  borough,  and  then  going  spending  all  his  time  with  a 
set  of  women !     I've  no  patience  with  you,  Randolph." 

"Haven't  you,  old  fellow  ?"  laughed  Fitz.  "Patience 
is  a  virtue,  and  as  no  lawyer  has  any  virtues  at  aU,  I  sup- 
pose we  can't  wonder  at  you.  I  did  begin  enunciating 
my  opinions,  but  you  stopped  my  mouth." 

"  Opinions  !  Pray  what  have  they  to  do  with  an  elec- 
tion ?"  retorted  Beau.  "  One  would  take  you  for  a  boy 
of  twenty,  talking  as  if  you  didn't  know  everything  going 
on  on  the  face  of  the  earth  was  an  affair  of  pounds,  shil- 
lings, and  pence.  Who  the  devil  cares  two  straws  what 
opinions  you  have?  Can't  you  keep  'em  quiet,  if  you 
will  have  such  things?  They  hinder  a  man  shockingly. 
If  he's  a  taste  for  'em,  he  should  lock  'em  up  in  his 
study.     You  want  to  get  returned " 

"  Don't  care  a  hang  about  it,"  cried  Fitz. 

"  For  Cantitborough  ?"  continued  Beau,  too  irate  to 
mind  the  interruption;  "and  if  you  do,  you  should  make 
up  your  mind  to  give  your,  money  to  me  and  Waring  with 
your  eyes  shut,  as  a  verger  takes  a  Christmas-box,  and 
to  put  the  stopper  for  a  time  on  all  that  liberalist  and 
rationalist  stuff.  It's  all  very  sensible,  when  shared  with 
the  esprits  forts;  but  it  don't  sell  just  now — it  must  wait 
another 'century  or  two.  If  you  want  to  get  on  with  the 
world,  you  mustn't  frighten  it  by  drawing  Truth  out  of 
her  well;  for  the  world  at  present  is  a  very  great  baby, 
and  truth  is  its  bogy,  and  makes  it  run  away.  But 
you're  as  wilful  as  an  unbroke  colt,  and  one  might  as 


BLUE   AND   YELLOW.  203 

well  talk  to  this  reindeer  tongue  as  to  you.  So  get  along 
to  your  sketching  party;  you're  out  of  mischief  there, 
if  you  don't  make  love  to  Whitechurch's  bride,  and  raise 
the  hue  and  cry  after  you,  with  old  Blue  Bar  springing 
the  rattle." 

With  which  oration,  delivered  with  the  spurt  of  a  cham- 
pagne cork,  Beau  pushed  his  plate  away,  drank  a  glass 
of  Bass,  and  ordered  the  dog-cart  to  drive  into  the  town, 
while  his  obstinate  client  put  his  block  and  his  moif-.t- 
color  box  in  his  pocket,  and  took  his  cap  to  walk  over  to 
Elm  Court.  A  nicer  place  to  flirt  in  than  that  Chase, 
with  its  soft  turfy  seats,  and  its  thick  shadowy  wood- 
lands, and  its  picturesque  distance,  as  an  excuse  for 
sketching,  it  was  impossible  to  find.  Fitz  was  very  great 
at  sketching;  he  made  a  sketching  tour  once  with  one  of 
the  "  Associates,"  but  to-day  I  fancy  the  outline  of  Dau- 
phin's nose  was  all  he  achieved,  for  he  was  chiefly  busy 
mixing  Miss  Val's  colors,  fetching  her  water,  telling  her 

how  to  tone  down  this,  and  deepen  that,  till Well,  I 

didn't  envy  the  Reverend  Augustine,  as  his  fiancee  sat 
at  the  roots  of  an  old  beech,  a  little  apart  from  the  rest 
of  us,  with  Fitz  lying  at  full  length  on  the  turf  beside 
her,  as  handsome  a  dog  as  ever  turned  a  girl's  head  with 
his  pretty  speeches. 

Valencia  was  very  shy  and  quiet  with  him  that  day; 
she,  who  generally  talked  nineteen  to  the  dozen,  and  was 
always  ready  for  any  lark.  I  was  listening  to  the  "  Prin- 
cess," which  Jimmy  Yillars  was  reading  aloud  to  Mrs. 
Levison  and  another  fair  one,  but  it  really  did  bore  me 
to  such  a  degree  that  I  was  obliged  to  sneak  out  of  sound 
to  where  1  could  light  a  pipe  without  offending  female 
nerves.  I  was  near  Fitz,  who  was  smoking — permitted 
the  indulgence  by  Valencia,  who  has  no  nonsense  about 
her — and  I  caught  the  end  of  his  sentence  as   he  lay 


204  BLUE  AND   YELLOW. 

looking1  up  at  her,  and  gathering  the  ferns  with  his  left 
hand.  Fitz  has  a  quiet  way  of  flirting,  but  it's  a  very 
effective  one. 

"No;  I  don't  wish  to  get  the  election,"  he  was  say- 
ing.    "  My  views  have  changed  since  I  came  down  here." 

"  What !  has  Cantitborough  air  turned  you  Blue  ?" 
laughed  Valencia,  with  her  customary  gaiety. 

"Not  exactly;  but  since,  when  I  leave  Cantitborough, 
I  shall  be  forgotten  as  a  passagere  acquaintance  by  those 
who  have  made  the  place  dear  to  me,  I  shall  never  set 
foot  in  it  again,  which  I  must  do  were  I  to  become  its 
representative.  Isn't  it  old  North,  in  the  '  Noctes,'  who 
says  '  there  are  places  in  this  earth  that  we  shudder  to 
revisit,  haunted  by  images  too  beautiful  to  be  endured  ?' 
I  feel  the  truth  of  that  now." 

"By  George!"  thought  I,  "Fitz  is  growing  very  seri- 
ous. Won't  poor  little  Val  credit  it  all,  and  never  dream 
it  will  be  talked  in  the  same  strain  to  some  new  flirtation 
next  month!" 

"  Will  you  give  me  that  sketch  ?"  Fitz  went  on,  after  a 
pause,  in  which  the  ferns  had  come  to  considerable  grief. 
"  It  is  not  much  to  ask,  but  I  should  like  some  memorial 
of  days  that  I  shall  never  forget,  though  you  will." 

"  Do  you  think  I  shall  ever  forget  them  ?"  began  Valen- 
cia, passionately;  then  stopped  short,  bending  her  head 
over  her  drawing. 

The  temptation  to  revenge  yesterday's  scene  was  too 
sweet  to  be  resisted.  Fitz  put  his  arm  round  her  waist, 
and  drew  her  down  towards  him.  "Will  you  promise 
me  that  you  will  not " 

But  Valencia  sprang  up,  scattering  her  materials  to 
the  four  winds;  her  face  -was  flushed,  and  her  voice  agi- 
tated. "  Hush,  hush,  you  must  not  speak  so  to  me ;  you 
do  not  know " 


BLUE  AND  YELLOW.  *205 

What  lie  didn't  know  never  appeared,  for  Edith  Levi- 
son  turned  her  head  over  her  shoulder,  saying, 

"  Val,  darling,  have  you  any  ultramarine  ?  I  can't  find 
mine." 

Val  went  towards  her,  and  Fitz  rose  with  a  worried, 
anxious  look  on  his  face,  very  different  to  the  fun  his  love 
affairs  generally  brought  him. 

"  Why  did  your  cousin  engage  herself  to  Mr.  White- 
church  ?"  asked  Fitz,  point-blank,  of  Mrs.  Levison,  find- 
ing himself  alone  with  her  for  two  minutes  before  dinner 
that  night. 

"Ah!  isn't  it  a  pity?"  cried  Edith  plaintively;  "a 
dreadful  man  like  that,  who'll  think  it  sinful  for  her  to 
waltz  or  go  to  the  Opera.  If  Gerald  wouldn't  let  me 
waltz,  or  have  a  box,  I  would  sue  for  a  divorce  to-mor- 
row.    It's  shameful,  isn't  it  ?" 

"But  why  accept  him  ?"  said  Fitz  impatiently. 

"  That  was  all  my  uncle's  doing,"  answered  Edith. 
"  He's  terribly  mean,  you  know,  without  the  slightest 
reason  to  be  so.  Valencia  came  home  from  school  at 
seventeen.  Augustine  thought  her  very  pretty,  (clergy- 
men are  not  above  those  weaknesses,)  and  proposed  for 
her.  My  uncle  thought  it  a  good  match,  and  ordered  her 
to  accept  him;  her  mamma  begged  her  not  to  go  against 
her  papa.  Poor  little  Val,  as  thoughtless  as  my  canary 
bird,  never  knew  the  misery  she  was  making  for  herself, 
and  consented.  She  has  been  miserable  ever  since,  poor 
child!  They've  been,  engaged  two  years;  and,"  contin- 
ued Edith  with  immense  energy,  "  oh !  Mr.  Fitzhardinge, 
I'd  as  soon  see  her  joining  the  poor  Clares  as  wear- 
ing orange-blossoms  for  that  pompous,  bigoted  White- 
church." 

So  would  Fitz,  probably,  on  the  well-known  principle 
of  the  dog  in  the  manger;  a  very  natural  principle,  espe- 


20b*  BLUE  AND   YELLOW. 

cially  when  one  has  a  fancy  to  eat  the  straw  oneself.  He 
did  not  say  so,  however,  but  leaned  againt  a  console  in 
profound  silence,  while  Edith  whispered,  as  Valencia 
came  into  the  room,  "  I  shouldn't  be  surprised  if  my 
uncle  broke  oft'  the  engagement  now,  for  he  thinks  Verdant 
is  in  love  with  her,  as,  indeed,  he  is,  poor  boy,  and  the 
peer's  robes  are  better  than  the  priest's." 

Whitechurch  came  to  dine  that  night  at  Elm  Court. 
The  dinner  was  not  so  lively  as  usual,  for  Fitz  and  Va- 
lencia, generally  the  fastest  hitters  in  the  tennis-ball  of 
conversation,  might  have  been  Gog  and  Magog  set  down 
at  the  table  for  any  amusement  they  afforded  the  society. 
Whitechurch,  too,  looked  more  glum  and  self-sufficient 
than  ever,  and  Jimmy  Villars  whispered  to  me,  "  that 
one  might  as  well  ask  the  terrace  statues  in  the  garden  to 
dinner  as  a  trio  of  lovers  and  rivals,  for  any  company 
that  they  were." 

After  dinner  at  Elm  Court  we  were  wont  to  take  our 
cigars  about  in  the  grounds  instead  of  over  the  wine  in 
the  glorious  sultry  August  evenings.  Levison  went  after 
his  wife— he  was  still  dreadfully  spoony  about  her — Fitz 
lighted  a  Havana  and  strolled  off  by  himself,  and  Jim- 
my and  I  sat  down  in  a  Robinson  Crusoe  hut  to  have  a 
chat  about  the  Cambridge  Eight,  the  October  meetings, 
and  other  subjects  we  had  in  common.  Villers  was  just 
telling  me  how  it  was  that  Long  Fortescue  happened  to 
make  such  a  pot  of  money  on  the  Cesarewitch,  when, 
through  the  thick  shrubs  and  young  trees  that  surround- 
ed our  smoking-room,  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  Valencia's 
pink  dress,  as  she  stood  in  earnest  talk  with  somebody  or 
other,  invisible  to  us. 

"Oh!  hang  it,  Jimmy,"  said  I,  "there's  another  love- 
scene  going  on ;  let's  get  out  of  the  way." 

"  Keep  still,  young  one,  rather,  "  retorted  Villars.  ■'  or 


BLUE  AND   YELLOW.  '207 

you  may  just  walk  into  the  middle  of  it,  and  smash  all 
the  fun.  Is  it  that  dear  little  pet,  and  Fitz  making  a  fool 
of  himself  about  her  ?  It's  horridly  duty  to  listen,  but, 
boxed  up  here,  one  can't  help  it.  Fitz  would  shoot  us  if 
we  walked  out  in  his  face  and  spoiled  sport.  Besides,  we 
shan't  hear  anything-  new;  love-scenes  are  all  alike." 

This,  however,  seemed  far  from  being  a  love-scene.  Va- 
lencia was  speaking  impetuously  and  hurriedly.  "  I  have 
acted  very  wrongly,  I  know  I  have.  A  girl  always  does, 
if  she  engages  herself  where  she  cannot  give  her  affec- 
tion. I  beg  your  pardon  for  having  misled  you.  I 
blame  myself  very  much  for  not  having  spoken  frankly 
to  you  long  ago,  and  asked  you  to  release  me  from  an  en- 
gagement I  can  never  fulfil." 

"  It  is  a  pity  you  did  not  think  so  long  ago,"  replied 
Whitechurch,  sententiously. 

"  It  is  a  pity.  I  wish  to  Heaven  I  had,"  cried  poor 
little  Val. 

"  I  dare  say  you  do,  since  you  have  seen  your  favorite 
reprobate,  Mr.  Fitzhardinge,"  smiled  the  pastor.  "  You 
say  very  justly  that  we  are  ill  suited  to  each  other;  our 
tastes,  and  aims  and  pursuits  are  utterly  alien.  I  was 
lured,  I  confess,  by  your  personal  attractions.  I  trusted 
that  the  good  seed,  once  sown,  might  flourish  in  so  fair 
a  soil;  but  I  was  deceived.  You  have  only  forestalled  me 
in  the  rupture  of  our  engagement.  I  confess  that  I  dared 
not  take  a  helpmate  out  of  Philistia,  and  I  have  learnt 
that  there  are  treasures  elsewhere  superior  to  the  ephem- 
eral charms  of  mere  exterior  beauty." 

"  I  am  rejoiced  to  hear  it,"  retorted  Val,  rather  haugh- 
tily. "  Our  want  of  congeniality  cannot  have  struck  you 
more  forcibly  than  it  has  done  me.  You  will,  at  least,  do 
me  the  justice  to  admit  that  I  never  simulated  an  affec- 
tion I  could  not  feel." 


208  BLUE  AND  YELLOW. 

"Certainly;  we  part  in  peace,  and  shall,  I  trust,  meet 
again  on  perfectly  friendly  terms,"  returned  AVhitechurch, 
with  doubly  pompous  self-consciousness  to  cover  his  in- 
ward mortification. 

"  He'll  take  Cary,  mark  my  word,"  said  Yillars,  as  the 
incumbent  of  St.  Hildebrande's  took  the  tips  of  his  late 
fiancee's  fingers,  raised  his  hat,  and  left  her.  "  All  her 
district  visiting  and  ragged  school  teaching  hasn't  been 
without  an  eye  to  business,  I'll  bet." 

Valencia,  fancying  herself  alone,  threw  herself  down 
on  a  turf  seat  under  a  mountain  ash,  looking  pretty 
enough,  with  the  sunset  fighting  up  her  bright  dress  and 
uncovered  hair,  while  she  sat  in  thought  out  of  which 
Dauphin,  by  the  application  of  a  cold  nose,  the  wagging 
of  a  short  tail,  and  many  impatient  barks,  vainly  tried  to 
rouse  her. 

"  Deucedly  nice  she  looks,  don't  she  ?"  whispered  Vil- 
lars.  "  Do  for  the  Sleeping  Beauty,  if  her  eyes  were 
shut.  Why  don't  Fitz  come  and  play  the  Knight's 
part?" 

He'd  scarcely  spoken  when  the  scent  of  a  Havana 
came  to  us  on  the  evening  wind,  and  along  the  shrubbery 
path  came  Fitz,  with  his  arms  folded,  and  his  eyes  on 
the  ground.  Dauphin  ran  up  to  him  in  an  ecstatic  state 
of  welcome.  Valencia  started  up,  her  cheeks  flushing  as 
bright-hued  as  the  sky,  and  said  something  highly  unintel- 
ligible about  its  going  to  rain,  which,  seeing  there  wasn't  a 
cloud  in  the  heavens,  seemed  looking  very  far  into  futu- 
rity indeed.  Fitz  didn't  answer  her  with  regard  to  her 
atmospheric  prophecies,  but,  throwing  away  his  cigar  into 
the  middle  of  an  oleander,  he  began  where  he  had  left 
off  in  the  morning,  caught  both  her  hands,  drew  her  to 
him,  and  kissed  her,  sans  ceremonie. 

"  By  Jove  !  that's  rather  too  much  for  a  man's  charity," 


BLUE   AND   YELLOW.  209 

growled  Villars.  "  Master  Kandolph  knows  how  to  do 
the  thing-,  don't  he  ? 

"  Valencia,  my  love,  my  darling,"  murmured  Fitz,  too 
earnestly  for  it  to  be  a  flirtation  any  longer,  "  I  beseech 
you  listen  to  me.  It  will  kill  me  to  see  you  thrown  away 
on  that  idiot.  I  would  do  him  some  mischief  before  I 
let  him  win  you,  or  saw  him  touch  your  very  hand  again. 
I  seem  never  to  have  hated  or  to  have  loved  till  now.  For 
Heaven's  sake  free  yourself  from  those  accursed  ties,  and 
give  yourself  to  me " 

"The  deuce!"  muttered  Jimmy,  when  Valencia  had 
whispered  that  she  was  free,  and  the  Kadical  candidate 
had  pledged  Hniself  with  every  vow  under  the  sun  to  the 
great  Blue's  daughter,  and  they  had  strolled  away  among 
the  shrubberies,  "  since  Fitz  has  got  up  the  steam  and 
come  it  au  serieux  like  this,  a  spavined  'bus  horse  may 
enter  itself  for  the  Derby.  A  pretty  fellow  he  is  to  come 
canvassing;  but  one  might  have  been  sure  what  sort  of 
an  election  he'd  try  for  when  hazel  eyes  like  those  were 
in  the  way." 

I  suppose  Fitz  found  this  style  of  canvassing  more  to 
his  taste,  for  the  harvest  moon  was  high  in  the  heavens, 
and  the  nightingale  was  jug-jugging  in  the  cool  wood- 
lands, and  Edith  had  sung  two  or  three  songs  after  the 
coffee,  before  he  and  Valencia  walked  in  through  the  bay- 
window,  he  looking  calmly  triumphant,  and  she  excit- 
edly happy,  as  if  they  really  thought  a  fusion  of  Blue  and 
Yellow  the  easiest  thing  in  the  world.    ■ 


V. 

FITZ   WINS    ONE   ELECTION   AND    LOSES    ANOTHER. 

To  see  Beau's  face  when  Fitz  told  him  he  had  turned 
out  "Whitechurch,  and  was  going  to  marry  Valencia  him- 


210  BLUE   AND   YELLOW. 

self,  was  as  good  a  bit  of  fun  as  to  see  Mathews's  "  Patter 
versus  Clatter." 

"  Well,  I  do  think  you're  gone  clean  mad,  Eandolph," 
he  began,  when  he  recovered  his  first  breathless  horror. 
"To  fly  in  the  face  of  the  borough  like  that — to  steal 
their  pet  parson's  fiancee — to  outwit  their  most  influen- 
tial householder — to  get  yourself  called  every  name  they 
can  lay  their  tongues  to,— how  the  deuce  do  you  think 
that's  likely  to  forward  your  election  ?" 

Fitz  lay  back  and  laughed  without  stopping  for  five 
minutes. 

"You  may  laugh,"  growled  Beau.  "You  won't  laugh 
when  you  see  two  thousand  five  hundred  pounds  six  shil- 
lings and  eightpence  gone,  and  nothing  to  show  for  it." 

"  That's  your  fault,"  put  in  Fitz,  "  for  spending  such  a 
lot  on  unholy  purposes.  What  sort  of  face  would  you 
show  in  the  Court  of  Incpury  ?" 

"  I  should  like  to  know,"  continued  Beau,  more  furious 
every  word  he  uttered,  "  what  a  bit  of  girl  is  worth  to 
lose  an  election  for  ?  Girls  are  as  cheap  as  green  peas, 
but  you  won't  find  free  boroughs  as  easy  to  come  by.  A 
pretty  row  we  shall  have  in  the  town !  Won't  the  Blues 
print  placards  about  you!  Won't  there  just  be  choice 
epithets  chalked  after  your  name  on  the  walls !  Won't 
the  Cantitborough  Post  catch  hold  of  it,  and  rake  up 
every  one  of  your  love  affairs;  and  pretty  nice  ones  some 
of  'em  are,  as  /  know,  since  I  was  called  in  to  settle  'em ! 
Won't  old  Blue  Bar  move  heaven  and  earth  to  keep  you 
out !  Well,  all  I  can  say  is,  that  you're  more  fit  for  a 
private  asylum  than  a  rational  hustings." 

With  which  final  philipjnc  Beau  flung  out  of  the  room, 
too  irate  to  hear  Fitz  call  after  him : 

"Take  my  compliments  to  the  editor  of  the    Cantit- 
borough Post,  and  ask  him  to  be  so  kind  as  to  print,  next 


BLUE   AND    YELLOW.  211 

week,  in  the  biggest  capitals  lie  has,  that  I  consider  a 
touch  of  Valencia's  little  soft  lips  worth  the  premiership ! 
Don't  forget,  Beau !  And,  I  say,  you  may  add,  too,  that 
Blue  and  Yellow  are  two  of  the  primary  colors,  and 
intended  to  unite  from  earliest  memory." 

Beau  was  quite  right:  the  town,  i.  e.  the  ladies — for 
Cantitborough  was  petticoat-governed — were  mad  with 
Valencia,  because  they  had  long  privately  adored  Fitz, 
and  Whitechurch  was  still  in  the  market,  and  therefore 
to  be  sided  with.  The  Blues  were  frantic  with  delight 
at  being  able  to  damage  the  Yellow  member,  who,  some- 
how, had  been  making  ground  in  spite  of  them;  and 
Barnardiston,  of  course,  was  furious,  not  because  "White- 
church  was  thrown  over,  for  Whitechurch  had  turned  his 
affections  towards  the  good  working  qualities  of  Caroline, 
but  because  the  man  he  hated  worst  in  the  whole  county 
— handsome,  reckless,  bold  republican  Fitz — had  cheated 
him  out  of  the  chance  of  a  coronet.  The  very  day  Va- 
lencia accepted  Randolph  she  refused  little  Lord  Verdant, 
and  so  enraged  was  the  great  Tory,  that  he  told  Valencia 
to  leave  his  roof,  and  sent  Fitz's  letters  back  unopened. 
Poor  Val,  who,  having  her  mamma  on  her  side,  however, 
did  not  mind  it  so  much,  took  refuge  with  Edith  Levison, 
Levison  himself  being  indignant  with  Barnardiston  for 
his  folly  and  ill-bred  opposition  to  a  match  so  much  bet- 
ter than  the  one  first  looked  for;  and  in  the  sultry  sum- 
mer days  and  the  long  summer  evenings  Fitz  and  Val 
passed  many  a  pleasant  hour  under  the  shady  trees  of 
Elm  Court,  while  in  the  little  bigoted,  quarrelling,  pep- 
pery town  four  miles  off,  the  Cantitborough  men  were 
blackening  his  name  in  committee-rooms,  and  the  Cantit- 
borough women  were  pulling  her  to  smithereens  at  their 
tea-fights. 
,    The  day  that  beats  the   Derby   for   stirring   English 


212  BLUE   AND   YELLOW. 

phlegm  into  mad  excitement — the  day  when  Blue  and 
Yellow  rise  rampant  against  each  other — the  day  when 
the  demon  of  Party  breaks  loose,  when  the  Unwashed 
smash  each  other's  heads  to  their  full  satisfaction,  when 
voters  are  locked  up  in  durance  vile  and  plied  with 
hocussed  grog,  and  torn  hither  and  thither  by  distracted 
cabs — when  men  work,  and  wear,  and  quarrel,  and  growl,^ 
and  swear  by  a  bit  of  blue  ribbon  as  if  it  were  the  sole 
stay  of  the  country,  and  grasp  at  a  yellow  banner  as 
though  it  were  the  mainstay  of  liberty — the  election-day 
dawned  on  Cantitborough,  the  sun  shining  extra  bright, 
as  if  laughing  with  its  jolly  round  face  at  the  baby  play 
these  little  pigmies  below  fancied  of  such  universal  im- 
portance. 

The  nomination-day  arrived,  and  each  separate  Cantit- 
burgher  uprose  from  his  bed  with  the  solemn  conviction 
that  the  destinies  of  England  hung  on  hi*  own  individual 
hands.  Beau  splashed  through  his  bath  with  the  rapid- 
ity of  a  water-dog,  brushed  his  whiskers  as  hastily  as  a 
Cantab  too  late  for  chapel,  and  dressed  himself  in  much 
the  same  eager  excitement  as  a  Coronet  harnessing  for 
his  first  parade. 

"Seven  o'clock,  and  that  fellow  not  up!"  growled 
Beau,  performing  a  fanfaronade  on  his  candidate's  door. 

"  What  the  devil  are  you  making  that  row  for  ?"  re- 
sponded Fitz.     "Why  can't  you  take   things  quietly?" 

"If  I  had,  I  wonder  how  you'd  stand,"  swore  Beau, 
"  on  the  poll  to-day  !  Not  up  !  when  Smith,  and  Salter, 
and  Verdant  will  be  in  the  town  by  nine  full  fig,  and  all 
your  committee  will  be  looking  out  for  you  at  half-past  at 
the  Ten  Bells !" 

Fitz  laughed. 

"  You  and  Fan  go  and  get  your  breakfast,  and  go  into 

Cantitborough,   whether   I'm   up   or   not.     And,  I    say& 


BLUE  AND  YELLOW  213 

Beau,  send  Soames  to  me,  and  order  some  one  to  saddle 
Rumpunch,  will  you  ?" 

"  Go  into  Cantitborough  without  him  !  He's  certainly 
mad,"  muttered  Beau,  in  soliloquy.  Being,  however,  of 
a  philosophic  turn  of  mind,  he  and  I  ate  a  good  break- 
fast, though  ungraced  by  the  presence  of  our  host. 
"  Why  is  that  fellow  so  late  ?"  said  Beau  fifty  times  to 
each  cup  of  coffee.  "Eight  o'clock,  by  Jove!  and  we 
shall  be  a  mortal  hour  getting  into  procession  and  going 
to  the  town.  Do  ring  the  bell,  Fan — ring  it  loud 
Thank  you.  James,  go  and  see  if  your  master  is  up." 
"  Can't  make  anybody  hear,  sir,"  said  James,  returning 
"Not  hear?  Bless  my  soul,  it's  very  extraordinary !" 
said  Beau,  looking  the  picture  of  unutterable  worry  and 
woe.  "Fitz  must  have  taken  an  overdose  of  opium. 
Confound  him!  what  did  he  get  in  love  for?  I'll  call 
him  myself."  Up  went  Beau  and  battered  at  the  door, 
with  not  the  slightest  success.  "  I  say,  Fitz !  Fitz !  are 
you  deaf,  or  dead,  or  what?"  shouted  Beau,  forgetting 
that  in  the  event  of  either  hypothesis  Fitz  would  be  the 
last  person  calculated  to  give  him  an  answer.  "God 
bless  me !"  cried  Beau,  bursting  the  door  open,  "  where 
are  you?  If  ever  there  was  a  wayward,  obstinate,  pro- 
voking  "  Beau  stopped  in  astonishment  too  great  for 

speech.  The  room  was  empty,  the  bed  empty,  Fitz, 
Rover,  and  Soames  departed,  all  the  drawers  open,  a 
portmanteau  on  the  floor,  and  shirts,  and  coats,  and 
brushes,  and  boots  tossed  about  as  when  a  man  has 
packed  in  a  hurry  and  left  behind  all  the  things  he  did 
not  want.  "  Bolted,  by  Heaven  !"  cried  Beau.  "Where's 
be  gone?  What's  he  done?  He  is  mad — he  must  be 
mad!  Send  the  servants  off  everywhere!  Where,  in 
the  devil's  name,  can  he  be  flown?  Oh,  curse  it,  Fan, 
what  is  to  be  done  ?" 


214  BLUE   AND   YELLOW. 

That  was  more  than  I  could  tell  hini.  "We  did  send 
the  men  everywhere,  but  they  could  not  find  their  mas- 
ter, nor  Soames  either.  Beau  had  a  faint  idea  of  drag- 
ging the  pond,  in  case  Val  had  jilted  him,  and  Fitz  had 
thrown  himself  into  a  watery  grave;  but  then  it  was  not 
probable  that  Soames  was  immolated  as  well.  Nine 
o'clock  struck;  there  were  the  Yellow  men  with  the  Yellow 
banners,  and  the  Yellow  ribbons,  and  the  Yellow  band, 
and  yet  no  candidate.  My  father,  who  would  have  been 
there,  had  been  all  along  too  ill  to  take  any  part  in  the 
election,  and  this  very  nomination-day  was  chained  to 
his  room  with  his  old  foe— gout.  In  that  half-hour  I  am 
sure  poor  Beau  lost  as  much  flesh  as  a  jockey  before  the 
Derby.  "  Well,  we  must  go,"  said  he,  in  sheer  despera- 
tion. "Perhaps  he'll  turn  up  in  the  town;  if  not,  we 
must  tell  'em  he's  seriously  ill.  By  George  !  I  wish  he'd 
been  at  York  before  he  brought  me  on  such  a  fool's 
errand." 

Into  Cantitborough  we  rode,  with  many  shouts  and 
enthusiastic  rushes  out  from  the  cottages  we  passed;  and 
into  the  market-place  we  went  with  great  row  and  glory, 
save  that  we  were  a  procession  without  a  head.  There 
was  little  Verdant,  meeker  than  ever  after  Valencia's 
rejection,  looking  like  a  noodle,  with  his  father  and  a  gal- 
axy of  titles  at  the  head  of  his  procession;  and  there  was 
Le  Hoop  Smith,  bland  and  smiling,  at  the  head  of  his; 
and  fat,  yellow  old  Salter  at  the  head  of  his.  And  where 
was  Fitz — the  handsome,  dashing  Fitz,  whom  the  women 
were  crowded  to  admire  and  the  mob  to  cheer  ? — at  the 
head  of  his,  that  gorgeous  Yellow  display  which,  thanks 
to  untiring  Beau,  was  grown  popular  even  in  Blue  Can- 
titborough? And  when  the  Blues  saw  not  Rumpunch 
and  his  rider,  were  they  not  frantic  with  triumph  ?  and 
were  not  Fitz's  committee  in  an  agony  of  wonder  and 


BLUE  AND   YELLOW.  215 

dread,  and  the  women  in  a  state  of  bemoaning  agony  and 
woe,  and  the  mob  in  a  frantic  fit  of  excitenent  and  indig- 
nation,, after  the  custom  of  mobs  from  all  ages  down- 
wards? And  was  not  Beau — poor  Beau — distracted  in 
his  own  mind,  and  worried  like  a  fox  with  fifty  packs 
after  him — more  inimitably  cool,  and  confident,  and 
matchless,  than  any  man  could  possibly  be  pictured* 
when  he  set  the  mayor's  hair  straight  upon  end  with  an 
account  of  the  frightful  attack  of  cholera  that  had  seized 
poor  Fitz  in  the  morning;  distracted  the  committee  with 
assurances  that  he  had  left  their  candidate  as  blue  as  the 
lapis  lazuli  ring  on  his  finger,  and  in  mortal  danger  of 
his  life;  appealed  so  touchingly  to  the  enlightened  men 
of  Cantitborough  not  to  allow  the  unfortunate  invalid's 
cause  to  be  injured;  and  conducted  himself  altogether  so 
brilliantly,  that  the  Blues  whispered  in  knots  in  dismay  ? 
Yes,  Beau  wue  magnificent  that  day.  I  confess,  though, 
he  did  push  me  aside  as  a  thundering  muff  when  I  made 
a  mistake,  and  told  one  of  the  committee  my  brother  had 
broken  his  ankle  the  night  before — yes,  Beau  was  glori- 
ous, I  admit.  The  proceedings  began  with  the  crier's 
bell  and  the  mayor's  oration,  which  was  entirely  unheard 
from  calls  from  the  crowd  of  "Go  it,  old  Baldhead!" 
"  Speak  up,  old  Malt-and-Hops !"  "  How  many  nine 
gallons  did  Salter  order  ?"  and  like  personal  allusions  to 
his  occupation.  Then  uprose  old  Barnardiston,  who 
was  not  very  cordially  received,  for  the  simple  reason 
that  he  was  the  hardest  magistrate  on  the  bench;  how- 
ever, the  Blues  cheered  him  to  the  skies  when  he  pro- 
posed as  a  fitting  representative  for  the  free,  loyal,  hon- 
orable, enlightened,  and  all  the  rest  of  it,  borough,  the 
son  of  the  noble  and  generous  House  of  Cockadoodle,  the 
benefactors  and  patrons  of  Cantitborough.  After  his 
beconder  came  two  out-and-out  Blues,  who  proposed  the 


216  BLUE  AND  YELLOW. 

gentle  and  intellectual  Le  Hoop  Smith,  of  Hooping  Hall 
Pottleshire ;  and  two  more,  who  put  forward  that  public 
spirited,  benevolent,  and  large-hearted  gentleman,  Curry 
Salter,  late  of  the  Bengal  Infantry;  and  then  two  Lib- 
erals arose,  in  a  wild  storm  of  mad  cheers  and  savage 
yells,  to  offer  to  the  borough,  as  a  member,  Randolph 
Fitzhardinge,  Esq.,  of  Hollywood  and  Evansdale,  who 
had  been  most  unhappily  stricken  down  by  illness  at  the 
very  moment  he  was  mounting  his  horse,  to  come  and 
have  the  honor  of  addressing  them  in  person.  And  now 
up  got  little  Beau,  as  plucky  as  a  game  cock,  and  began 
to  tell  them  how  it  was  that  he  was  compelled  to  take 
their  candidate's  place.  So  ingeniously  did  he  apologise 
for  Fitz;  so  delightfully  did  he  set  the  crowd  screaming 
at  his  witticisms;  so  mercilessly  did  he  show  up  his 
opponents'  weak  points;  so  admirably  did  he  describe 
Fitz's  opinions  much  better  than  Fitz  would  have  done 
himself,  who  would  have  talked  Plato  and  frightened 
them  with  his  daring;  so  pathetically  did  he  implore 
them  not  to  let  the  great  Liberal  cause  be  prejudiced  by 
an  unavoidable  accident,  that  the  mob  cheered  him,  as  if 
he  had  been  the  Queen  and  they  Etonians,  hurraed  for 
Fitzhardinge  till  their  throats  were  hoarse,  and  even 
some  determined  Blues  were  caused  to  waver  in  their 
minds.  The  hands  clad  in  French  kid,  doeskin,  silk, 
cachemfre,  or  dirt,  as  it  might  chance,  that  lifted  them- 
selves out  from  the  tumultuous  sea  of  shouting,  strug- 
gling', fighting  Blues  and  Yellows,  were  declared  in  fa- 
vor of  Lord  Verdant  and  Randolph  Fitzhardinge ! 
Beau's  triumph  was  magnificent,  it  smashed  hollow  all 
the  mural  crowns  that  ever  were  manufactured;  and  it 
was  worth  a  guinea  to  see  him  in  it,  mercurial  as  quick- 
silver, rapid  as  a  champagne  cork,  sharp  as  a  ferret  on 
his  foes  and  winning  as  a  widow  bent  on  conquest  to  his 


BLUE  AND  YELLOW.  217 

friends,  haranguing  these,  arguing  with  those,  thanking 
a  fat  councilman,  and  pledging  a  thin  churchwarden, 
talking  up  for  the  Queen  and  down  for  the  Pope,  agree- 
ing with  everybody  and  offending  none,  telling  them 
poor  Fitz  was  Prussian  Blue  when  he  left  him,  and  rap- 
idly progressing  towards  Indigo,  but  had  now  taken  a 
favorable  turn,  as  he  had  just  heard  by  a  messenger, 
thanks  be  to,  &c.  &c. 

Yes,  Beau  was  grand  on  that  day,  and  never  more  ef- 
fective than  when,  at  twelve  o'clock  at  night,  having 
shaken  the  last  hand,  and  drunk  the  last  glass,  and  talked 
the  last  solemn  talk  with  the  solemn  committee,  he  sprang 
on  his  horse  in  the  Ten  Bells  yard  to  tear  over  to  Holly- 
wood to  see  how  his  poor  friend  was.  He  had  just  his 
foot  in  the  stirrup,  and  I  was  on  my  hack,  receiving  no 
end  of  condolences  for  my  brother's  most  ill-timed  attack 
from  three  or  four  of  the  principal  of  the  committee, 
when  a  hand  was  laid  on  my  knee,  and  an  awful  voice, 
which  I  knew  only  too  well,  said,  in  tones  the  fac-simile 
of  the  first  tragedian's  at  the  Royal  Grecian, 

"  Mr.  Francis  Fitzhardinge,  you  are  a  scoundrel  and  a 
liar !" 

"  Hallo  !"  said  I,  "  mild  language  !  I  am  used  to  gen- 
tlemen, sir,  not  to  Billingsgate.  What  the  devil  do  you 
mean " 

"  What  do  you  mean,  sir,"  stormed  Mr.  Barnardiston, 
"  by  daring  to  come  before  an  assembly  of  upright,  loyal, 
God-fearing  citizens  with  a  lie  on  your  lips?  What  do 
you  mean  by  joining  in  a  vile  plot  to  trick  a  whole  com- 
munity, and  rob  a  parent  of  a  child — — " 

"Take  care,  old  gentleman;  you  are  talking  libel,"  in- 
terrupted Beau,  pleasantly.  "  The  cognac's  too  much  for 
you.     Go  home  and  sleep  it  off,  for  it  don't  do  for  the 

10 


218  BLUE  AND  YELLOW. 

Romans  to  see  their  pet  Cincinnatus  a  little  the  worse 
for " 

"  Hold  your  tongue,  sir,"  screamed  Barnardiston,  pur- 
ple with  rage,  "  or,  by  Heaven,  I'll  find  a  way  to  make 
you.  How  dare  you  come  hei-e — both  of  you — and  tell 
the  whole  borough  that  the  cursed  villain  you  call  friend 
and  brother " 

"  Gently:  gently,  my  dear  sir;  remember  how  you  com- 
promise yourself,"  put  in  Beau,  with  most  solicitous 
courtesy. 

"The  consummate  rascal,"  pursued  Barnardiston, 
fiercer  than  ever,  waxing  into  sarcasm — "  I  mean  the 
honorable  gentlemen,  the  noble-hearted,  high-spirited 
Liberal  candidate,  who  has  sneaked  out  of  a  contest  in 
which  he  knew  he  could  not  win,  and  ordered  his  oblig- 
ing agent  and  his  boy-brother  to  chicane  a  whole  town 
with  some  garbled  folly  of  the  cholera  to  screen  his  pri- 
vate marriage  with  the  daughter  of  one  whom  her  father 
would  sooner  see " 

"  Eh  ? — what  ? — what  did  you  say  ?  Married !"  cried 
Beau,  nonplussed  for  once  in  his  life. 

"  Ay,  sir;  married.  And  you  know  it  as  well  as  I,  de- 
spite your  admirable  acting,  which  would  do  credit  to 
Macready,?'  sneered  the  Arch  Blue. 

"  By  Heavens,  if  I  had  known !"  swore  Beau,  furiously; 
then  stopped  and  changed  his  tone.  "  Married,  you  say, 
and  to  your  daughter  ?  Well,  I  congratulate  you.  You 
must  feel  uncommonly  pleased;  it  is  a  much  higher 
match  than  you  could  have  looked  for." 

Barnardiston  was  perfectly  black  in  the  face.  He 
turned  himself  with  his  back  to  us,  and  began  to  ha- 
rangue the  committee-men,  who  looked  scared  oat  of 
their  lives: 

"  Fellow  citizens  ! " 


BLUE   AND  YELLOW.  219 

"Ah!  that's  the  correct  style,"    said  Beau:  "It's  so 
beautifully  patriotic." 

"  Men  of  Cantitborough,  I  appeal  to  you.  Judge  be- 
tween me  and  the  honorable  gentleman  you  have  chosen 
to  represent  you.  "We  have  been  separated  by  politics, 
but  we  are  old  fellow-townsmen,  and  you  will  give  me  a 
patient  hearing.  Mr.  Fitzhardinge  comes  down  to  can- 
vass a  borough  which  has  only  heard  of  him  before 
through  wildness  and  follies  which  disgrace  his  name. 
He  meets  a  girl — a  young  girl,  an  innocent  girl — who  is 
betrothed  of  her  own  will  to  one  of  the  purest-minded 
sweetest-natured  men  that  ever  breathed — a  man  whom 
you  have  crowned  with  the  honor  of  your  reverence  and 

esteem " 

"  And  Easter  offerings,  with  which  he  buys  the  whisky 
that  makes  his  inspiration,"  interpolated  Beau. 

*A  man   whom  you   all   revere  and  love,  and  whose 

heart  is  locked  up  in  this  young  girl's  affections " 

"  Or  her  ten  thousand  pounds." 

"  What  does  this  villain — I  can  use  no  milder  term, 
gentlemen — do,  but  seduce  those  pure  and  fond  affections 
from  the  holy  man  who  once  held  them — woo  her,  win 
her,  persuade  her  to  break  off  the  ties  of  her  engagement, 
and  fetter  herself  anew  to  him.  I  refuse  my  consent  be- 
cause I  know  Mr.  Fitzhardinge's  character  too  well  to 

peril  my  child's  happiness  in  his  keeping " 

"  Because  you  thought  Mr.  Verdant  was  hanging  after 
her,"  interrupted  Beau. 

"I  reject  his  suit.  What  does  he  do  ?  He  induces  her 
to  brave  me  with  all  the  open  disobedience  which  cuts  so 

keenly  to  a  father's  heart " 

"  Turn  on  Lear — a  quotation  will  save  you  no  end  of 
trouble,"  said  Beau,  kindly. 

"  He  persuades  her  to  go  and  reside " 


220 


BLUE  AND   YELLOW. 


"  When  you'd  turned  her  out  of  your  house." 

"To  reside  with  people  to  whom  I  have  the  most 
marked  objection " 

"  Why  did  you  court  Levison  so  hard,  then,  to  take 
your  pretty  niece  ?" 

"The  most  marked  objection.  I  distinctly  forbid  her 
marriage.  She  wants  two  years  of  her  majority;  and  so 
this  scoundrel Passion  gets  the  better  of  me,  sirs !" 

"  Or  Cockadoodle's  comet  wine  does." 

"When  I  tell  you  that  Mr.  Randolph  Fitzhardinge 
takes  the  day  of  his  nomination — the  day  he  knew  I 
should  be  tied  to  town,  endeavoring  to  serve  my  coun- 
try's interests — to  marry  my  poor  child  privately,  with  no 
witnesses  but  the  Levisons,  in  the  church  at  Elm  Court, 
at  ten  o'clock  this  morning.  I  need  comment  no  further 
on  the  miserable  trick  by  which  you,  gentlemen,  and  all 
the  rest  of  Cantitborough,  have  been  duped  to-day.  I 
only  ask  you,  as  fellow-townsmen,  once  private  friends, 
and  always,  I  hope,  friends  in  the  common  cause  of  truth 
and  honor,  to  side  with  me,  and  never  allow  this  destroyer 
of  home  peace,  this  wild,  unprincipled  scoundrel,  to  rep- 
resent in  the  senate  of  our  nation  this  free,  loyal,  and 
Protestant  borough." 

"  Gentlemen,  hear  my  version,"  began  Beau. 

"  Will  you  listen  to  a  villain's  employe  ?"  pursued  Bar- 
nardiston. 

"  I  give  you  my  honor "  cried  Beau. 

"  What  is  his  honor  worth  ?"  shouted  Barnardiston. 

"  Will  you  hear  me  ?" 

"Will  you  believe  him?" 

Tumultuous  was  the  scene,  frightful  the  commotion, 
terrific  the  tempest  of  Blue  and  Yellow  which  raged  over 
devoted  Cantitborough.  Blues  and  Yellows  swarmed 
into  the  Ten  Bells  yard;  Blues  and  Yellows  surged  round 


BLUE  AXD  YELLOW.  221 

mine  and  Beau's  horses;  Blues  and  Yellows  asked  fran- 
ticly  what  was  the  row,  and  carrying  off  but  an  unintel- 
ligible version,  proceded  as  the  next  best  plan  to  kick  up 
a  row  on  their  own  account.  They  screamed,  and 
shouted,  and  pummelled  each  others'  shoulders,  and 
punched  each  others'  heads,  and  hissed,  and  yelled,  and 
swore,  and  cudgelled,  and 

Fought  as  only  men  can  fight  who  know  no  reason  why. 

In  vain  the  Yellow  agent  tried  to  speak.  Every  elegant 
missile  that  the  dark  night  could  allow  to  come  to  hand 
was  pelted  at  him  and  me;  in  vain  the  Blue  leaders  tried 
to  turn  the  tumult  to  account;  the  mob,  who  being  in  a 
mood  to  pelt,  would  have  pelted  the  moon  could  they 
have  got  at  her,  forced  them  to  retreat,  covered  with 
much  obloquy  and  still  more  rotten  egg.  Smash,  crash, 
went  half  the  windows  in  the  place;  ladies  rushed  from 
their  couches  in  nightcaps  and  hysteria;  policemen 
turned  and  fled,  or  used  their  truncheons  in  some  private 
grudge;  not  a  Town  and  Gown  row,  even  with  Fighting 
Bob  or  the  first  of  the  fancy  in  surplice  and  mortar- 
board to  help  us,  ever  beat  it;  and  at  last,  in  sheer  des- 
peration, having  satiated  ourselves  with  enough  hard 
hitting  to  last  a  twelvemonth,  Beau  and  I  set  spurs  to 
our  horses,  and  knocking  down,  at  a  low  computation, 
some  three  hundred  men  and  boys,  fought  our  way  out 
of  the  town,  and  galloped  on  to  Hollywood  in  silence. 

"By  Heaven!"  said  Beau,  through  his  set  teeth,  as  he 
threw  himself  dovn  at  last  in  the  arm-chair  of  the  din- 
ing-room, thoroughly  done  up  for  the  first  time  in  his 
life — "  by  Heaven !  if  I'd  known  Fitz  was  such  a  cursed 
fool,  I'd  have  seen  him  at  the  devil  before  he'd  made  one 
of  me  too.     The  election's  lost,  smashed,  ruined.     I  may 


222  BLUE  AND   YELLOW. 

as  well  withdraw  his  name  from  the  poll.  To  go  and 
disgrace  himself  before  all  the  county;  to  lose  a  free 
borough  for  a  bit  of  a  girl,  when  girls  are  as  plenty  as 
blackberries  and  quite  as  worthless;  to  go  and  offend  his 
father,  and  hirs  constituents,  and  his  county,  and  every- 
thing worth  considering,  from  a  ridiculous  fancy  for  a 
little  flirt  whom  he'll  be  wishing  at  the  devil  in  twelve 
months'  time — two  thousand  pounds  fifteen  shillings 
and  eightpence  gone  for  nothing!  I'm  a  cool  man — a 
very  cool  man,  generally — but  I  confess  this  does  get  the 
better  of  me.  How  shall  I  ever  forget,  or  how  will  all 
the  Cantitborough  men  forget,  my  being  brought  down 
here  only  to  tell  them  a  parcel  of  lies,  and  not  succeed- 
ing through  them,  even  ?  By  Jupiter!"  and  Beau  sprang 
up  from  his  chair  and  dashed  his  hand  down  on  the 
table  with  an  impetus  that  made  the  bottles  and  glasses 
on  it  leap  up  terrified  into  the  air — "  by  Jupiter  !  I  swear 
I'll  never  speak  to  your  madman  of  a  brother,  Frank,  or 
to  his  confounded  wife,  as  long  as  I  live— never !  I,  the 
sharpest  dog  in  all  Lincoln's  Inn,  to  be  done  green  like 
this!" 

With  which  pathetic  summary  poor  Beau  fell  back 
again  into  his  chair,  and  opened  his  lips  do  more  that 
night.  The  morrow  dawned;  the  poll  was  opened;  Beau, 
like  a  plucky  soldier  sticking  to  his  colors  as  long  as 
there  was  a  rag  of  them  left,  rode  into  Cantitborough 
early,  and  I  with  him,  and  made  his  way  to  the  polling- 
booth  in  the  midst  of  the  yells,  and  shouts,  and  fiendish 
exclamations,  and  laughter,  and  derision  of  the  mob, 
who  swarmed  through  the  streets  still  strewn  with  the 
debris  of  the  midnight  conflict.  In  vain  did  Beau  seek 
a  hearing  from  his  chief  constituents;  in  vain  did  he 
try  to  gather  round  him  the  committee;  in  vain  did  he  try 
to  rally  round  him  even  a  few  straggling,  troopers   to 


BLUE  AND  YELLOW.  223 

make  a  stand  with  him  in  this  Ther/ruopyloean  fix.  In 
vain  !  The  Cantitburghers  had  been  duped,  and  when 
did  ever  Christian  live  with  magnanimity  enough  to  par- 
don that  ?  The  news  of  Fitz's  marriage  had  spread 
throughout  the  town;  the  ladies  were  furious  against 
Valencia  for  having  hooked  the  only  handsome  man  who 
had  been  seen  in  Cantitborough  for  the  last  ten  years. 
They  made  then-  husbands,  and  sons,  and  fathers  sol- 
emnly promise  to  withdraw  their  vote  from  such  a  wicked 
fellow,  and  the  husbands,  and  sons,  and  fathers,  some 
of  them  being  in  love  with  Val,  others  liking  to  buy  re- 
ligious reputation  cheap  by  siding  with  the  pet  parson, 
and  others  having  Fitz's  money  already  in  their  pockets, 
determined  to  hold  virtuously  aloof  from  the  contest, 
vowed  the  required  vow,  and  the  tide  of  public  adoration 
set  steadily  in  for  Verdant  and  Le  Hoop  Smith. 

The  committees  sat  in  their  respective  rooms,  the  mob 
round  the  booth  danced,  and  shouted,  and  yelled,  in  utter 
absence  of  police,  the  Peelers  being  hors  de  combat  from 
the  past  night's  fray;  Beau,  and  two  or  three  staunch 
Liberals,  stood  firm,  with  anxious  visage  and  hearts  sunk 
to  zero.  The  tower  clock  struck  four — the  poll  was 
closed — the  votes  stood  thus : 


Verdant          550 

Le  Hoop  Smith 310 

Salter        200 

Fitzkardinge 6 


Great  was  the  exultation,  great  the  clamor,  that  arose. 
You  do  not  need  to  be  told  how  the  Blue  banners  waved, 
and  the  Blue  band,  inflame i  with  triu  nph  and  purl,  be- 
gan to  play,  and  the  Blue  members  bowed  down  to  the 
ground,  and  thanked  the  noble,  intelligent,  and  generous 
community  which  had  returned  them  as  their  representa- 


224  BLUE  AND   YELLOW. 

tives,  how  the  Blues  insulted  the  Yellows,  with  frightful 
contumely,  and  how  the  Yellows,  few  in  flesh  but  strong 
in  spirit,  returned  the  compliment;  and  how  the  Yellow 
banners  struck  up  the  Blue  banners  when  the  triumphal 
procession  formed,  and  Blue  heads  went  down  under 
Yellow  fists,  and  Yellow  heroes  collapsed  beneath  Blue 
boots,  and  the  remaining  half  of  the  windows  were 
smashed;  and  how  the  uproar  was  at  its  height,  when 
into  the  market-place,  spurring  on  Rumpunch,  necked 
with  foam,  came  the  head  and  root  of  it,  my  brother 
Fitz,  as  handsome,  as  devil-may-care,  and  as  cool  as 
ever. 

Louder  grew  the  yells,  wilder  the  shouts,  fiercer  the 
row;  up  in  the  air  flew  the  eggs  and  the  mud  and  the 
sticks  and  the  stones,  and  all  the  popular  missiles  of  the 
Great  Unwashed;  but  steady  as  a  rock  stood  Rumpunch 
under  Fitz's  curb,  and  firm  as  a  rock  sat  Fitz  himself,  in 
the  midst  of  it.  There's  nothing  like  pluck  for  pleasing 
or  awing  the  canaille ;  it  is  the  one  thing  they  will  appre- 
ciate and  revere.  Their  shouts  hushed  for  a  second,  and 
they  stopped  in  their  onslaught  upon  him-  He  took  ad- 
vantage of  it,  and  held  up  his  hand  :  "  Men,  listen  to 
me  for  a  minute  !" 

They  did  listen  to  him  (Barnardiston  had  been  vigor- 
ously assaulted  by  a  potboy,  and  had  gone  home  to  the 
Larches, )  and  Fitz  went  on  :  "I  hear  I  have  lost  my 
election.  I  am  sorry  for  it,  but  I  could  scarcely  expect 
otherwise  ;  and  if  I  have  preferred  securing  an  election 
of  another  kind,  I  hope  the  constituents  of  Cantitborough 
are  all  too  gallant  and  chivalric  gentlemen  to  disagree 
with  me.  "  Here  uprose  immense  cheering  from  a  few, 
and  laughter  even  from  the  enraged  community.  "I 
can't  alter  your  decision  now,  but  I'll  try  to  merit  a 
different  one  next  time  I  contend  for  the  honor  of  repre- 


BLUE  AND  YELLOW.  225 

senting  you.  I  have  no  right  to  ask  any  favor  at  your 
hands;  but,  nevertheless,  I  am  going  to  ask  two  :  the 
first,  that  you  will  clear  my  brother,  Mr.  Francis  Fitz- 
hardinge,  and  my  agent  and  friend,  Mr.  Beauclerc,  of  any 
imputation  of  knowing  the  true  canse  of  my  absence,  and 
any  deliberate  intention  of  concealing  it  by  able.  The 
other  is,  that  there  may  be  no  disunion  or  bloodshed  on 
my  behalf,  and  no  broken  heads  caused  through  my  fault. 
Let  us  all  agree  to  differ;  let  the  victorious  go  to  their 
homes  without  insulting  the  vanquished,  and  the  van- 
quished without  quarrelling  with  the  conquerors  for 
justly  earned  success.  Let  us  all  part  in  good  will,  and 
let  my  Mends  go  to  the  Ten  Bells  and  drink  my  health 
and  that  of  my  bride,  if  they  will  be  so  kind,  with  three 
times  three  !" 

It  was  a  queer  election  speech,  and  without  precedent, 
certainly,  but  in  the  little  antiquated  borough  it  told 
admirably.  Never  before  was  seen  such  an  election, 
without  doubt;  but,  somehow  or  other,  Fitz,  going  into 
a  new  track,  and  doing  such  a  thing  as  had  never  been 
done  before,  got,  all  of  a  sudden,  more  heartily  cheered, 
applauded,  and  hurraed  then  the  successful  candidates 
themselves.  The  gentlemen  of  the  town  sneered,  and 
ridiculed,  and  fumed  about  his  speech  being  most  illegal, 
most  unprecedented,  most  absurd,  but  the  Unwashed, 
only  looking  at  the  pluck,  and  the  manliness  of  tone,  and 
the  flowing  taps  of  the  Ten  Bells,  cheered  him  vocifer- 
ously, and  would  have  had  the  polling  done  over  again  if 
they  could.  Beau  stood  looking  on,  with  his  brow  knit 
like  a  Jupiter  Tonans,  and  turned  into  the-  Ten  Bells 
with  a  grunt. 

"That  fellow  should  have  lived  in  the  middle  ages, 
with  all  his  confounded  folly.  And  yet,  devil  take  him, 
why  can't  one  hate  him  ?" 

10* 


226  BLUE   AND  YELLOW. 

"  "Will  you  forgive  me  old  boy  ?"  laughed  Fitz,  following 
him  into  a  private  room  twenty  minutes  after. 

"Get  out!"  growled  Beau,  yet  looking  lovingly  on 
him  nevertheless.  "A  pretty  fellow  you  are!  making 
yourself  look  like  a  fool,  and  everybody  else.  I  should 
have  thought  you  more  a  man  of  sense  than  to  run  mad 
after  a  mere  pretty  face.  Two  thousand  five  hundred 
pounds  fifteen  shillings  and  eightpence  gone  for  nothing !" 

"  Never  mind,  old  fellow,"  laughed  Fitz.  "  Barnar- 
idiston  would  have  scented  the  ceremony,  and  forbidden 
it,  on  any  other  day  ;  and  as  to  waiting  till  she  was  of 
age,  quite  out  of  the  question.  I  should  have  killed  my- 
self before  half  the  time  was  out,  so  I  shouldn't  have  been 
much  use  to  the  community  or  the  Commons  ;  and  if 
her  little  face  is  not  better  to  look  at  than  the  Speaker's 
why " 

"  Spare  me  that,  spare  me!"  cried  Beau.  "I'll  forgive 
you,  but  I  really  can't  stand  her  praises." 

"  Come  and  look  at  her,  and  you'll  soon  forgive  her," 
said  Fitz,  taking  out  his  watch.  "  I've  made  an  im- 
mense sacrifice  to  you,  Beau,  in  leaving  her  at  one  o'clock 
to  ride  over  to  this  little  owl  of  a  town,  whose  animad- 
versions are  much  more  honor  than  its  praise.  She's 
at  Sandslope — you  know,  that  little  place  by  the  sea,  ten 
miles  from  her;  I  took  here  there  yesterday,  and  now  I 
must  gallop  back  to  her,  poor  little  dear,  or  she'll  be 
thinking  the  Blues  and  Yellows  have  eaten  me  up.  King 
the  bell,  Fanny,  and  ask  White  to  saddle  me  the  best 
horse  in  his  stables — Piumpunch  is  dead  beat;  and  I  say, 
Beau,"  went  on  Fitz,  "  don't  be  vexed,  dear  old  boy.  I 
will  canvass  for  the  next  election  in  earnest;  and  when 
you  come  over  to  Sandslope  (we  don't  want  you  just  yet,) 
If  you  don't  say  my  poor  pet  is  excuse  enough  for  any- 
thing, why  you'll  be  made  of  granite." 


BLUE   AND   YELLOW.  227 

"  Hum  !"  grunted  Beau,  "  I  shall  always  hate  her. 
But  that  don't  matter  ;  give  my  compliments  to  her 
(not  my  congratulations,  for  she'll  find  out  that  to  have 
you  for  a  husband  is  no  matter  for  felicitation,)  and  tell 
her  that  my  sister  the  other  day  walked  down  Regent 
Street  with  '  Chaste  and  Elegant,  21.  10s.'  on  her  cloak, 
and  that  I  hope  she'll  ticket  herself  the  same,  '  Mrs.  Ran- 
dolph Fitz  hardinge,  value  2500/.  15s.  8d.,'  for  she  has 
cost  you  that  to  a  certainty." 

Apparently  Fitz  still  thinks  Valencia  worth  it,  for  he 
has  never  regretted  his  hasty  step.  She  did  look  excuse 
enoimh  for  anything  when  we  saw  her  a  week  or  two 
after,  when  they  quitted  Pottleshire  for  the  Lakes,  leav- 
ing the  county  to  pull  them  to  pieces  at  leisure  ;  and  she 
asked  Beau's  pardon  so  prettily  and  penitentially  for  the 
mischief  she  had  done,  that  Beau,  being  the  very  reverse 
of  a  stoic,  forgave  her  her  sins,  only  made  her  solemnly 
promise  to  leave  Fitz  unmolested  when  next  he  stood  for 
a  free  borough.  Beau  was  made  amiable,  too,  that  morn- 
ing,  by  hearing  that  Le  Hoop  Smith  had  been  unseated 
for  bribery,  and  that  Barnardiston  was  already  rumored 
to  repent  having  treated  so  cavalierly  such  a  high  match 
for  his  daughter. 

Caroline  married  Whitechurch  ;  they  quarrel  night 
and  day  at  home,  but  abroad,  administer,  in  amicable 
concert  enough,  very  big  texts  and  very  small  globules 
to  their  unlucky  parishioners.  Beau  is  supremely  happy 
just  at  present,  Fitz  having  procured  for  him  a  record- 
ership,  long  the  object  of  his  desires.  And  Fitz  ?  Well, 
Fitz  writes  to  me  to-day  that  he  is  going  yachting  in  the 
Levant,  with  Valencia  and  "three  or  four  other  pleasant 
fellows,"  that  Val  is  as  bright  as  a  sunbeam,  and  agrees 
with  him  in  thinking  the  sherbet,  laughter,  and  de- 
licious  bags   of  the  Ionian  Isles  much  better  than  the 


228  BLUE  AND  YELLOW. 

odors   of    the    Thames  in    the   senatorial   halls   of  St. 
Stephen's. 

But  though  they  make  a  jest  of  it,  and  think  the  one 
election  well  won  and  the  other  well  lost,  I  doubt  if  Can- 
titborough  has  ever  forgotten,  or  will  ever  forget,  the 
strangest  contest  that  an  enlightened  borough  of  the 
enlightened  nineteenth  century  ever  beheld,  and  if  the 
Cantitburghers  will  ever  cease  discussing  in  news,  and 
drawing,  and  tap  room  the  memorable  strife  of  Blue  and 
Yellow  when  my  brother  Fitz  stood  for  Cantitborough  ! 


BELLES  AND  BLACKCOCK. 


BELLES  AND  BLACKCOCK. 


OVER   THE   HILLS     AND    FAR   AWAY. 

August  had  come,  and  grouse  and  black  game,  wild- 
fowl and  snipe,  salmon  and  deer,  became  the  prominent 
ideas  in  my  mind,  and  I  longed  for  the  advent  of  the 
12th  as  fervently  as  any  cornet  for  his  moustaches,  or 
young  lady  for  her  first  ball.  I  had  been  bored  to  death 
by  the  season.  I  am  not  a  marrying  man,  and  the  great 
emporium  of  good  matches  is  of  no  use  to  me;  so,  after 
concerts  and  crushes,  dejeuners  and  dinners,  the  coulis- 
ses and  the  Commons,  I  was  thankful  enough  when,  after 
having  eaten  my  customary  whitebait,  I  was  free  to  turn 
my  thoughts  to  the  bracken  and  the  mist,  the  corries  and 
the  glens  of  the  dear  far-away  Western  Highlands. 

I  was  impatient  to  be  off.  I  had  my  guns  browned, 
bought  a  new  Enfield,  overhauled  my  rods,  got  no  end 
of  new  flies,  and  of  course  felt  discontented  with  my 
kennel,  though  some  of  my  pointers  and  setters  are  as 
good  as  any  on  the  hill-side,  and  Ascot,  Moustache,  and 
Puseyite  cannot  be  beat  either  among  the  turnips  or  the 
heather.  My  cousin  Dyneley  (Graham  Cyril  Beauchamp 
Vavasour,  tenth  Baron  Dyneley,  according  to  that  gour- 


'232  BELLES  AND   BLACKCOCK. 

mand  for  strawberry-leaves,  Mr.  Burke)  had  been  asked 
to  shoot  over  Steinberg's  moor  with  him,  but  at  the 
eleventh  hour  the  poor  old  Viscount  had  a  fit  of  apoplexy; 
some  said  from  an  exces  in  truffles  and  Tokay  at  a  Star 
and  Garter  dinner  he  gave  the  Aquilina.  He  was  or- 
dered to  "  les  eaux,"  and  condemned  to  a  regimen,  and, 
bemoaning  his  bitter  fate,  despairingly  told  Dyneley  to 
fill  the  box  as  he  pleased.  So  Dyneley  asked  me  to  go 
down  with  him  and  Willoughby  of  the  14th  (Light  Dra- 
goons)— we  always  call  him  Claude,  because  there  are 
no  end  of  Willoughbys  in  the  army — and  one  or  two 
other  fellows,  to  make  up  our  party  to  bag  blackcock 
and  stalk  deer  on  poor  Steinberg's  moor  at  Glenmist,  in 
Argyleshire. 

Dyneley  and  I  had  thrashed  Bargees,  beat  the  West- 
minster, pounded  the  Harrow  boys,  and  pulled  to  Put- 
ney together  years  ago  when  we  were  young  bloods  at 
Eton;  and  I  have  had  many  a  day's  sport  with  him  since, 
here  and  there,  among  the  stubble  at  home,  sticking  pigs 
in  the  jungle,  buffalo-hunting  in  the  prairies,  going  after 
elephants  in  Ceylon,  and  camping  out  to  net  ortolans  in 
Scinde.  He  has  been  fond  of  vagabondising  (so  have  I, 
entre  nous,)  and  he  is  known  all  over  the  world  as  well  as 
Wprtley  Montagu  was,  and  can  make  himself  equally  at 
home  in  an  Arab  tent  or  in  a  European  court;  sleeping 
under  his  horse's  legs  in  the  wilds  of  the  Pampas,  or 
flirting  with  a  Spanish  dona  in  some  luxurious  palace  in 
Madrid. 

Dyneley  is  poor  for  a  peer,  though  rich  compared  to 
such  fellows  as  Willoughby,  who  has  not  money  enough 
to  keep  his  horses.  Dyneley's  governor  went  deucedly 
fast,  and  spent  every  shilling  the  entail  would  let  him  lay 
his  hand  upon.  To  be  a  rich  peer,  is  decidedly  a  very 
jolly  birth-right;  but  a  poor  one — I  wTould  as  soon  be  one 


BELLES  AND  BLACKCOCK.  233 

of  the  grooms  about  the  Yard.  Dyneley  thought  so  too; 
so,  after  he  had  gone  fast  also,  he  shut  up  his  place  in 
Hampshire  to  retrench  by  itself,  sold  the  town-house, 
took  his  yacht  Aphrodite  and  wandered  over  the  face  of 
the  earth,  seeing  life  in  all  its  possible  phases,  firing  a 
book  or  two  now  and  then  at  the  world,  getting  a  repu- 
tation for  cleverness  and  eccentricity  (everything  is  called 
eccentric  that  is  at  all  out  of  the  beaten  track),  and  at 
five-and-thirty  came  back  from  his  travels  to  be  admired 
by  some,  cavilled  at  by  others,  likened  by  young  ladies 
to  Lara  and  Manfred,  and  to  be  fete  as  a  singular  melange 
of  Gordon  Cumming,  Lamartine,  and  Layard. 

He  was,  however,  utterly  unlike  any  of  the  three,  as  it 
happened. 

"  Well,  Monti,  are  all  your  traps  ready  ?"  said  he,  when 
I  went  to  see  him  one  morning  at  Maurigy's,  where  he 
had  been  staying  ever  since  he  and  the  Ajjhrodite  had 
come  home.  He  was  swinging  himself  in  a  rocking-chair, 
smoking  a  hookah  he  had  brought  from  Cairo,  his  stag- 
hound  Mousquetaire  lying  at  his  feet.  "Willoughby 
chanced  to  be  breakfasting  with  him,  and  was  lying  full 
ength  on  a  sofa.  Ha  used  to  be  nicknamed  Bella  in  his 
troop,  for  he  has  all  the  beauty  of  his  mother,  who  made 
a  great  row  when  she  came  out,  but  ended  by  marrying 
for  love  upon  nothing,  which  aerial  inheritance  she  be- 
queathed to  poor  Claude,  with  her  soft  almond  eyes  and 
fair  hair.  He  is  a  tall,  broad-chested  fellow,  but  Dyneley, 
swinging  there  in  his  rocking-chair,  though  not  so  big, 
beats  him  hollow  in  sinew  and  power;  and  his  face, 
with  its  haughty,  pale,  refined  features,  and  dark  eyes 
that  can  soften  and  flash  wonderfully  when  they  are 
moved,  has  a  greater  charm  for  women  than  even 
Claude's,  though  he  is  called  the  Crusher,  from  his  mer- 
ciless slaughter  of  the  pretty  game — game  which  he  kills 


234  BELLES   AND   BLACKCOCK. 

as  I  have  shot  parrots  in  India,  to  leave  where  they  fell. 
*'  If  you  are  ready,"  continued  Dyneley,  "  I  think  we 
may  as  well  start.  Vere  tells  me  he  never  shot  over  bet- 
ter ground.  There's  a  salmon  river,  plenty  of  snipe  in 
the  moss,  and  Fitzcorrie's  forest  joins  the  moor.  I  know 
him  intimately:  he'll  let  us  kill  some  stags,  to  say  noth- 
ing of  the  out-lying  ones.  Shall  we  travel  all  night  ? 
May  as  well." 

"For  Heaven's  sake,  Dyneley,  no!"  cried  "Willoughby, 
with  more  energy  than  he  often  threw  into  things.  "  It's 
all  very  well  for  you  fellows,  with  your  muscles  of  iron, 
that  that  clever  chap  in  "Guy  Livingstone"  writes  so 
much  about,  to  talk  in  that  barbarous  style.  You,  who've 
worn  sheepskins  with  Bedouins,  and  crossed  the  Fjord 
with  Laps,  may  find  fun  in  such  monstrosities,  but  I 
never  the  myself  if  I  can  help  it;  and  as  to  cramping 
my  legs  by  travelling  all  night,  I'll  be  shot  if  I  do  it,  not 
if  you  offer  me  half  a  million  at  my  journey's  end." 

"  Haven't  half  a  million  to  offer,"  said  Dyneley,  setting 
down  some  cold  game  to  Mousquetaire.  "  It's  exactly 
the  sum  I  want  myself,  and  when  I  find  it  I'll  open 
Yauxley,  and  take  my  seat  in  the  Lords.  But  I  shouldn't 
have  thought  you  such  a  lazy  dog,  Claude,  last  February 
three  years,  when  you  pogged  that  tiger  at  Darjeeling." 

"  That  ?"  said  Claude.  "  Oh  !  that  was  nothing.  I 
wanted  amusemeiit,  and  the  brute  turned  up.  No !  I'm 
a  very  lazy  man.  As  I'm  a  poor  devil,  I  must  stick  in 
the  Cavalry  till  I'm  providentially  shot  in  some  scrim- 
mage; but  if  I  were  rich,  I'd  live  among  roses  and  myr- 
tles in  Arabia  Felix,  with  a  harem  and  a  hookah,  lots  of 
sherbet,  and  some  Nautch  girls,  and  never  stir  all  day." 

"  I  tried  that  once  when  I  was  in  the  East,"  said  Dyne- 
ley, "and  got  intensely  bored  after  a  little  while;  and  so 
would  you.     Sofa  cushions,  narghile,  and  aline,  made  me 


BELLES   AND   BLACKCOCK.  235 

keenly  feel  the  truth  of  "toujours  perdrix."  I  thought 
the  girls  delightful  at  first,  but  for  a  continuance  one 
wants  something  besides  ankles  and  almond  eyes.  They 
never  open  their  lips  for  any  better  purpose  than  to  show 
their  white  teeth,  and  you  know  I've  a  weakness  for 
brains." 

"Do  you  find  yourself  any  better  served  in  that  com- 
modity by  English  belles  than  by  Turkish  bayaderes  ?  I 
don't." 

"No!"  said  Dyneley,  after  a  long  pull  at  his  hookah; 
"  women  are  women  all  the  world  over.  "Whether  the 
question  is  rouge  or  betel-nut,  rings  on  the  fingers  or 
rings  through  the  nose,  women  are  born,  live,  and  die 
solely  for  'the  toilette.'  Last  March,  when  I  was  stay- 
ing down  at  Fail-lie's,  I  noticed,  one  wet  day,  that  his  wife 
and  Fanny  Villiers,  being  thrown  on  their  own  resources, 
talked  on  for  five  consecutive  hours,  without  stopping, 
of — dkess;  how  splendidly  somebody  was  got  up  on  her 
presentation,  how  badly  somebody  else  was  dressed  at 
the  Handel  concert,  what  one  woman's  diamonds  possi- 
bly cost,  how  little,  they  knew  for  a  certainty,  another 
had  given  for  her  Honiton,  consoling  themselves  with 
the  hope  that  'Adelaide's'  pearls  were  paste,  pulling 
their  friends  to  pieces,  cheapening  this  and  envying  that, 
till,  by  George  !  it  really  made  me  sad  to  think  with 
what  bitter  truth  our  mothers,  and  sisters,  and  wives, 
and  daughters  might  write  on  their  lily-white  brows, 
'  Kubbish  shot  here!'  " 

"  Their  heads  ain't  more  empty  than  their  hearts  are 
icicles,"  muttered  Claude,  stroking  his  silky  chestnut 
moustache.  "  I've  flirted,  I  dare  say,  as  much  as  most 
men,  but,  as  Dick  Swiveller  says,  '  I  never  loved  a  dear 
gazelle  but  it  was  sure  to  marry  a  market-gardener.'  A 
girl  who  was  mad  about  me  when  she  was  skating  in  a 


236  BELLES   AND   BLACKCOCK. 

black  hat  and  a  red  petticoat  at  Christmas,  I  was  certain 
to  see  the  season  after  selling  herself  at  St.  George's  in 
Mechlin  and  orange-flowers." 

"  My  dear  fellow,  you're  not  singular,"  laughed  Dyne- 
ley.      "  I   remember   having    very   tender    meetings   in 
orange-groves  as  poetical  as  you  could  wish  with  a  hand- 
some Granadine,  who  vowed  her  heart  would  break  when 
we  parted,  there  not  being  room  for  her  in  the  yacht. 
Twelve  months  after,  touching  at  Frangerola,  I  went  to  see 
after  my  dona,  feeling  a  friendly  interest  in  her;  lo!  she'd 
married  a  lean  old  alcade  a  fortnight  after  my  depart- 
ure;'— and  beautiful  Venetians,  whom  I  left  inconsolable, 
I  was  certain  to  find  provided  with  my  substitute  when  I 
and  the  Aphrodite  called  there  again.     But  about  start- 
ing to-morrow;  we  may  as  well  go  at  once.     Curtis  and 
Eomer  won't  come  down  till  the  20th.     If  you  like  to 
sleep  in  Glasgow,  Claude,  do.     I  shall  push  on;  I  hate 
dawdling  when  I'm  once  en  route.     What  of  that  new 
dog    of    yours,    Monti,   do   you   think    he'll    stand  the 
heather  ?     Pointers  can't  often.     My  kennel's  in  first-rate 
condition.     You've  never  seen  Mousquetaire  pull  down  a 
stag.     Empress  is  second  best,  and  Eros  and  Royal  are 
good  working  dogs." 

We  talked  on,  as  hard  as  a  lot  of  girls  talking  over  a 
wedding,  of  the  respective  merits  of  Enfield  and  Purdey, 
rifle  powders  and  cartridges,  spoons,  governors,  and  flies, 
and  all  the  thousand  necessaries  of  the  moors;  comparing 
notes  of  the  royals  we  had  stalked  and  the  salmon  we 
had  played,  with  many  a  reminiscence  of  a  good  day's 
sport  wound  up  with  a  haunch  of  roe  or  grilled  black- 
cock, and  washed  down  with  steaming  tumblers  of  Farin- 
tosh  or  foaming  pints  of  Prestonpans. 

Start  we  did  the  next  morning,  and  slept  at  Glasgow, 
too,  for  Dyneley,  though  he  is  given  to  making  out  that 


BELLES  AND  BLACKCOCK.  237 

he  is  a  profound  egotist,  generally  gives  up  his  own 
wishes  to  other  people's.  We  went  on  to  Greenock  early 
the  next  morning,  and  steamed  up  Loch  Fine  to  Inver- 
aiw,  where  Steinberg's  head-keeper  was  waiting  for  us 
with  a  dog-cart  and  some  other  traps  to  take  us  on  the 
twenty  miles  to  Glenmist. 

"  Delicious !  isn't  it  ?"  said  Dyneley,  looking  down  into 
a  trout  stream  as  he  drove  along  through  the  mist,  smok- 
ing vigorously.  "  Don't  you  long  to  be  flinging  a  fly  in 
there  ?" 

"  De — licious  !  well,  I  don't  know,"  murmured  Claude, 
wringing  the  wet  from  his  long  moustaches,  "people's 
tastes  differ.  I  can't  say  myself  that  I  ever  thought  be- 
ing as  moist  as  an  otter  or  a  Scarborough  boatman  was 
any  peculiar  state  of  blessedness,  but  it  may  be  one  lives 
and  learns." 

"  'Pon  my  life,  Claude,  to  hear  you  talk,  if  I  hadn't 
seen  you  pig-sticking  up  in  Scinde,  I  should  think  you 
deserved  the  name  of  '  Bella,'  you  indolent  dog,"  said 
Dyneley,  whipping  up  the  mare. 

"  So  I  do,"  drawled  Claude.  "  There's  not  a  hand- 
somer man  in  the  Service.  All  the  women  will  tell  you 
that." 

"  The  almond-paste  and  kalydor  are  all  you  think 
about,  I  suppose  ?" 

"My  dear  fellow,  I  don't  use  anything  so  common. 
I've  a  private  recipe  for  cosmetique  that  I  wouldn't  suffer 
out  of  my  hands  for  half  Barclay's,  bad  as  I  want  tin.  I 
wouldn't  mind  letting  you  have  a  little;  it'll  keep  the  sun 
from  bronzing  you." 

"Don't  be  such  a  fool,"  laughed  Dyneley.  "Bah!  if 
I  thought  a  girl  used  either  cosmetique  or  rouge,  I 
wouldn't  kiss  her  now  if  she  were  as  beautiful  as  Om- 
phale.     Would  you?" 


238  BELLES   AND   BLACKCOCK. 

"  Can't  say  what  I  mightn't  do  under  temptation," 
said  Claude,  piously.  "  I'm  afraid  I  haven't  always  for- 
sworn actresses  and  danseuses.  Have  you?  And,  as 
my  sister  Julia  paints,  I've  had  to  kiss  rouge  through  a 
sense  of  duty  sometimes." 

"Julia  must  be  over  thirty;  she's  only  a  year  younger 
than  you,  if  I  remember  ?" 

"  No,  poor  thing !  She's  flirted  from  Dublin  to  Devon- 
port,  and  from  Canada  to  Calcutta,  all  to  no  purpose. 
She  can't  even  hook  a  cornet." 

"  She  must  be  very  stupid,  then,"  said  Dyneley.  "  Be- 
tween the  ages  of  eighteen  and  twenty-two  I  can  dis- 
tinctly remember  being  engaged  to  eight  different  women 
—all  bona  fide  affairs,  too— rings,  and  hair,  and  all  the 
rest  of  it.  Boys  always  take  to  old  women,  too;  the 
sort  of  women  from  whom,  in  after  years,  they'd  flee  to 
the  uttermost  ends  of  the  earth.  In  my  opinion,  there 
ought  to  be  a  law  to  prevent  young  fellows  committing 
themselves.  The  sylph  in  white  muslin  that  they  adore 
when  they're  one-and-twenty,  they  find  when  they're  one- 
and-thirty  to  be  a  common-place,  and,  alas!  too  often 
fat  or  red-nosed  lady,  who  looks  old  enough  to  be  their 
mother,  and  who,  if  they've  the  misfortune  to  be  tied  to 
her,  clings  round  their  neck  like  a  brickbat  round  a 
droAvning  dog's." 

"  Bravo,  Dyneley!  You're  positively  speaking  philoso- 
phy and  truth,  two  combinations  rarely  seen  on  this 
earth,"  said  I.  "  Are  those  the  motives  that  have  kept 
you  from  matrimony  hitherto  ?" 

"  I  ?  No.  I  shall  marry  for  money  if  ever  I  do — sell 
myself  to  the  highest  bidder,  to  keep  up  the  title.  That's 
what  you'll  end  in,  too,  Claude,  eh  ?" 

"No,"  answered  Willoughby,  sharply,  for  a  wonder. 
"  I  shall  never  marry  at  all." 


BELLES  AND  BLACKCOCK.  239 

"  Quite  wise,  if  you  can  live  without  it.  Here's  the 
lodge;  snug  little  place,  isn't  it  ?  I  wish  poor  old  Stein- 
berg were  here  to  welcome  us.  I  dare  say  we  shah 
find  some  grilled  grouse  waiting  for  us.  Steinberg  al- 
ways tells  Alister  to  shoot  some  a  few  days  before  the 
12th." 

The  grilled  grouse  was  waiting  for  us,  and  a  good  fire, 
too,  for  the  mist  made  it  a  chilly  night.  Alister  (the 
head  keeper)  gave  us  good  accounts  of  the  moor.  The 
broods  of  grouse  were  large ;  there  were  plenty  of  home- 
bred snipe  in  the  moss,  and  fowl  in  the  pools,  and  salmon, 
and  jack,  and  trout  in  the  river.  Fitzcorrie  was  expected 
daily  down  at  Glengrouse,  and  one  or  two  outlying  stags 
had  been  seen  on  our  moor.  Altogether,  there  was  good 
sport  in  prospect;  and  when  we  had  done  dinner,  and  sat 
round  the  fire  in  Steinberg's  cozy  fauteuils,  smoking  Cav- 
endish and  drinking  toddy,  and  listening  to  the  witty, 
graphic,  satiric  sketches  with  which  Dyneley  can,  when 
he  chooses,  delight  a  mess-table,  oharm  a  drawing-room, 
and  even  amuse  a  club-room,  we  felt  as  contented  and 
comfortable  as  any  three  men  could,  and  rejoiced  exceed- 
ingly at  having  escaped  drums,  crushes,  concerts,  ma- 
noeuvring chaperones,  and  inveigling  belles,  to  enjoy  our- 
selves on  the  moors,  in  the  dear,  free,  sans  gene  bachelor 
life. 


n. 


WE  BAG  BLACKCOCK  AND  MARK  BELLES. 

"Extraordinary  what  a  deal  one  can  do  under  press- 
ure," said  Willoughby,  when  we  were  discussing  Loch 


2 -=  "-'  -■-  - 

1   -e  bulling-  .i  lot  erf  other  H 

.lock  the  fallowing  morning.     "I  life 

breakfast  bei  up  in  town  or  in  barra,  ept 

;:?::'.      i  .       -nl  thru  =    :  r;     ;n;    :-_..l:-.~   ;,-_    ■  ;':   ::    .-u:.: 
-    .    . :.; :s  . _i>  l  .:v.r_  :--_;  ;:'  : .  -:       M     ;    ■.-.-•.:    l;::li  r\.\ 

'.  _  -  -       .    _   r  .  -    -  :'_-.:  .V.;   :.: 

bridgr     :  :  :Hoek,  after  lancheon.  dear  p: 

things !     I  wssr  vnd  I  wrote  her  'word  I  wss  % 

sorry  for  her  disappointment,  be:  ~«as 

_:_.';-  :;   .  __  v.-     _  -  .  :\ '.-:  :n  :_i:  -_.  1.11;   . :  :_-.  n ;_-"_:." 

I     ;  .  :    ".         .1  -  ;'-  .;        : 

make  a  ~  r     _       ;        _    laughed  I  "You're  a 

-■:::.  ?Te-.  iiri  .1..;;"-  ::  :'_;  _:!;.::  n;Vlf — -1.  .l:l;-x, 
1:\:  />::  ..-_:.  ezzz.ii  ..:  _  zz.-.  .11  ;'...:  :.z.:  -/.nir  .v_  .1 
true  as  steel  when  you're  markir  _  s  in  the  ope  a,  or 

._  ..zzz-.  -  in  ..  -l__:-__._-_." 
Claude  bowed  down  to  his  plate  at  :_  Hmeni. 

_       ti  know  when  one's  Ho  up  or., 

polish  off  the  1  — -Is  handsomely;  if  IVe  any  very  great 
impetus  I  don't  so  much  tp"-  I  tiring 

Tut-:  -     in     :_    .":-    -:::  j  _-"_  ~    zz  zzz. 

J  _-.  ;_;"__■  -..1  DjnflrT  ;-  ;_:___:.  _  \y  ..:.  1  ;  _:__-  :; 
:_e   — Inl:  —   -__     :__    -_....  -  :r;~l  ::' 

—  :t:-    :_-    :li  —~zln  ~   in  tl_r  mils:   ::  iem 

::1I    "1.  /z    z  .._r    -  Lfs.  Ba?<        :       _:-.". 

j    ::z  :zzz  Innin-rn  -_--'_  —     i  sh::      ;    :     :1      fills. 
H>    ~:~-.   s  ::"n   -    :::    is    ~~ -    1.'.    ''--.'.     1  7    —  .-    — 

z.-      _ -_:..  .-    ._   1 .  .  ".:        1  zz.    -  .:  ■     :     1 
ri:Mr-  :;:_t    '  _   _       •    "  _  '.   _    "  : 

_     .  --.11  '  ;-:         :    .'.     .    .   --  _      -"._:_  .': 

_: ''-'.-_      ~  z   z'--    _r  .:_- :      —  1   ?.=:lin:  .   :  r        -z.     ~     '_    ~" 
:      -   :_   .  :han   all    L      ?ld 

reks  pot  together  co  e  mos"  I  eror 


BELLES   AXD    BLACKCOCK.  241 

known  the  pleasures  of  the  moor>.  Talk  of  Socrates 
smiling  at  the  hemlock,  and  Seneca  inspecting  the  chop- 
ping up  of  his  ovm  veins !  they  are  nothing  to  contem- 
plating the  days  when,  tied  to  one's  arm-chair,  we  shall 
recall  the  conies  and  the  glens  as  joys  that  are  no  more 
for  us.  "NVe  had  splendid  sport  that  day;  there  was  a 
Highland  mist,  (that  in  Hyde  Park,  or  among  the  Eng- 
lish turnips,  we  should  have  thought  a  heavy  shower;)  a 
pull  up  a  hill  of  some  eight  hundred  feet;  rocks  sharp 
as  needles  to  scramble  over,  and  deep  bums  to  wade 
through,  and  underwood  as  thick  as  jhow  jungle,  but 
we  never  had«  primer  fun  in  our  lives;  and  Claude— lazy 
dog,  as  he'd  make  himself  out — enjoyed  himself  more, 
wet.  stiff,  and  deacl-beat  in  the  moss,  and  marshes,  and 
brushwood  of  Glenmist,  than  he  would  have  been  in  the 
most  luxurious  spot  you  could  put  him  in. 

He  and  I  made  very  good  use  of  our  time,  and  knocked 
down  grouse  and  the  black  game,  besides  snipe,  teal  and 
a  few  hares,  right  and  left.  But  Dyneley  took  the  shine 
off  us.  Alister  looked  on  at  him  with  as  much  delight 
as  that  canny  Scotsman  could  ever  be  stirred  into;  and, 
'pon  my  honor,  he  does  handle  a  gun  beautifully.  To  be 
sure,  he's  had  such  practice  as  few  men  have,  and  the 
East  and  the  "West  could  tell  you  many  a  tale  of  his 
deeds,  camping  out  in  the  Punjab  jungles  and  the  pri- 
meval woods,  and  I  dare  say  a  better  shot  than  he  was 
never  seen  on  the  moors;  he  does  it  all  so  coolly  ai  I 
yet  so  untiringly,  too,  putting  no  end  of  energy  into  it, 
yet  never  half  as  1  as  other  men  are. 

The  mist  had  cleared  off,  and  the  sun  came  out.  by  the 
time  we  reached  the  falls,  and  found  the  old  pony,  the 
plaids,  and  the  Bass,  and  stretched  ourselves  on  the 
heather  to  have  a  pipe  ai  joy  owe  luncheon. 

"  "Well,  this  is  pleasant,  decidedly,  hut  I  doubt  if  it's 

11 


242  BELLES   AND  BLACKCOCK. 

philosophic,"  said  Willoughby,  taking  a  pull  at  the 
mountain  dew,  "  When  one  looks  upon  it  in  a  serious 
light.  I  doubt  if  three  sensible  men,  all  over  thirty, 
coming  four  hundred  miles  on  purpose  to  fatigue,  ex- 
haust, and  take  it  out  of  themselves  in  every  possible 
way,  for  the  express  purpose  of  putting  some  shot  into 
unhappy  birds,  or  crawling  through  bush  and  briar,  after 
the  manner  of  the  serpent,  that  was  more  subtle  than  any 
beast  of  the  field — I  doubt,  if  taken  philosophically,  there 
is  not  something " 

"Hang  philosophy !"  laughed  Dyneley.  "  What's  in 
Plato,  Lucullus,  Swedenborg,  Kant,  Whewell,  Stuart  Mill, 
that  will  do  a  man  half  the  good,  body  and  mind,  that  a 
good  day  on  the  hills  does  ?  You  know  I've  read  pretty 
well  as  much  as  most  fellows,  though  I  don't  go  in  for  a 
classic,  and  when  I  get  my  half  milhon,  one  of  the  first 
things  I  look  after  at  Vauxley  will  be  the  library;  but  I 
do  say  that  a  man  who  knows  how  to  handle  his  rifle  and 
his  rod  is  worth  fifty  of  your  regular  bookworms.  I  re- 
member, when  I  was  at  Granta,  fellows  who  used  to  sap 
tremendously,  green  tea,  Greek  roots,  and  all  the  rest  of 
it.  Their  mathematics  were  something  wonderful;  their 
whole  brain  was  one  giant  Euclid;  they  were  a  walking 
classical  dictionary,  and  spent  months  debating  the  deri- 
vation of  a  word.  What  were  they  worth  in  '•he  world  ? 
Babies  in  practical  knowledge;  natural  history  or  every- 
day politics  a  dead  letter  to  them.  Put  them  across  the 
Channel,  they  could  not  muster  words  to  ask  for  their 
dinner;  and,  tried  in  any  manly  sport,  a  boy  from  Eton 
would  laugh  them  to  scorn.  Bah!  what  are  such  men 
worth  ?" 

"  Nothing,  most  noble  lord,  in  my  opinion,"  said 
Claude.  "  Pity  you're  not  in  the  House,  Graham:  you'd 
be  as  eloquent  as  Sheil  or  Bernal  Osborne." 


BELLES   AND   BLACKCOCK.  243 

"  On  the  uses  of  the  moors  ? — that  would  be  a  novel 
debate,  certainly;  quite  as  sensible  as  the  Maynooth  and 
certain  others,  perhaps.  I  tell  you,  when  I  find  my  halt 
million,  I  shall  take  my  proxy  out  of  Lord  John's  hands. 
But  it's  no  good  putting  on  a  peer's  robes  with  a  miser- 
able six  or  eight  thousand  a  year.  I  prefer  absenting 
myself  and  Bohemianising  to  going  in  for  certain  ex- 
penses which  I  have  no  money  to  meet.  By  George! 
there's  Empress  pointing,"  said  he,  jumping  up.  "  Good 
old  thing  she  is.  Steady,  Empress,  steady.  There,  we 
shall  have  them  now  beautifully.  Whisky,  Whisky,  you 
little  devil,  confound  you !" 

Whisky,  a  young  dog  of  Steinberg's  that  had  never 
been  on  the  heather  before,  had  spoiled  the  chance  of  a 
splendid  brood  of  birds.  Dyneley's  eyes  flashed;  he's 
impetuous  and  passionate  sometimes,  and  Whisky's  fault 
was  very  provoking  to  a  keen  sportsman,  remember; 
he  raised  his  gun  to  the  dog,  and  would  have  shot 
him  in  the  heat  of  the  minute,  but  Alister  stopped  him. 
"  Whisky's  unco  young,  my  lord,  and  he  don't  know  no 
better  yet,  poor  brute."  Dyneley  shook  him  off  with 
a  haughty  gesture— I  tell  you  he  can  be  fiery  on  occa- 
sion— but  after  a  minute  or  two  he  cooled  down,  and 
turned  to  Alister  with  his  frank,  sunny  smile.  "You 
were  right,  and  I  was  wrong.  I  am  glad  you  stopped 
me  in  a  cruelty  which  I  certainly  should  have  been 
ashamed  of  and  sorry  for  afterwards." 

I  heard  Alister  say  to  my  servant,  a  few  days  after,  that 
"  the  laird  was  a  bit  fiery,  but  he  was  a  true  gentle- 
man and  a  leal  heart,  God  bless  him !"  to  which  my 
man  heartily  agreed,  tossing  down  some  usquebaugh  in 
his  honor. 

We  had  first  rate  sport  for  the  next  few  days;  the 
weather  was  not  the  finest,  but  the  rain  kept  the  streams 


244  BELLES   AND   BLACKCOCK. 

up ;  there  "was  a  good,  speat  in  the  river,  and  Dyneley,  who 
is  never  happier  than  when  whipping  the  water,  hooked 
and  landed  a  thirty-pound  salmon.  \Ye  bagged  plenty 
of  ducks  and  snipe,  and  some  few  ptarmigan.  "We  had 
a  battue  of  mountain  hares  when  Curtis  and  Romer  joined 
us,  and  we  killed  a  hare  and  a  two-year-old  buck,  and 
found  the  slot  of  another,  which  we  lost  by  his  heading 
to  the  forest. 

"  Fitzcorrie'H  come  down  to-morrow,"  said  Dyneley 
one  morning,  when  the  letter-bag  came  in.  "  Poor  old 
fellow,  he's  been  kept  up  in  town,  chained  to  his  gout- 
stool  through  this  splendid  August.  He'll  fill  the  Castle, 
of  course,  and  he  hopes  we  shall  have  a  good  many 
days  with  him  in  his  forest.  I  shan't  go  and  stay  up 
there,  though;  will  you?  There'll  be  his  wife  and  sev- 
eral other  women,  and  wThen  one  is  dead-beat  it's  pleas- 
anter  to  throw  oneself  on  a  sofa  and  have  a  pipe  than 
to  dress  for  a  nine-o'clock  dinner,  and  waltz  and  talk 
nonsense  to  the  girls.  You  don't  do  justice  either  to  the 
moors  or  the  flirtations.  Fitzcorrie  takes  a  most  pater- 
nal interest  in  my  affairs;  he's  always  wanting  me  to 
marry — pour  cause,  he'd  like  to  have  me  in  the  House 
to  support  his  measures — and  he  keeps  a  look-out  for 
heiresses  on  my  behalf.  He  will  bring  one  down  with 
him  to  Glengrouse.  Hark  what  he  says :  '  I  have  found 
exactly  what  you  want,  my  dear  fellow.  You  have  been 
so  little  in  England,  that  probably  you  may  not  know 
her.  She  is  a  belle,  very  accomplished,  and  worth  twen- 
ty thousand  a  year.  Her  father  was  a  Brummagem  peer 
created  by  Peel;  but  we  anciens  pauvres  cannot  afford  to 
be  fastidious.  You  can  have  her  for  the  asking,  I  don't 
doubt.  Douglas  Jerrold's  tillocracy  will  give  anything  for 
your  quarterings.  She's  coming  to  stay  with  Florence, 
so  you  must  mind  and  mark  something  besides  black- 


BELLES  AND   BLACKCOCK.  245 

cock,  for  I  really  think  either  Adeliza  or  Constance  Van- 

deleur  would  be  an  admirable  match  for  you '   Hallo, 

Claude,  what's  the  matter  ?  don't  you  feel  well  ?" 

"  Yes,  thank  you,"  said  Claude,  hastily  taking  a  draught 
out  of  one  of  the  great  silver  tankards  filled  with  XXX. 
"It's  this  confounded  arm  of  mine  that  the  ball  broke  at 
Mejeerut;  I  dare  say  the  gun  strained  it  a  little." 

"  Ah !  broken  hmbs  are  the  very  deuce.  I  could  almost 
blow  my  brains  out  when  the  neuralgia  comes  on  in  the 
leg  that  got  the  grape  into  it  when  you  and  I  charged  to- 
gether, old  boy,  on  those  miserable  little  Caffre  wretches," 
said  Charlie  Curtis. 

"Let  Sandy  carry  your  gun,  Claude,  up  to  the  pass,  for 
it's  a  good  five  miles  to  the  spot  where  they  have  seen 
the  deer,"  said  Dyneley.  "  Komer,  do  you  know  this 
prize  young  lady?" 

"Yes,  I've  seen  her;  everybody  has,  except  nomades 
like  you,  who  forsake  Christian  lands  to  stalk  to  and  fro 
in  the  deserts.  Her  grandfather  was  a  Birmingham  man 
—it's  disgusting  what  a  set  of  snobs  the  peerage  is  get- 
ting— there's  no  end  of  tin  in  the  family,  produce  of  Japan 
tea-trays  or  electro-plate,  I  forget  which;  and  she  is  a 
good  coup — perhaps  the  best,  as  far  as  money  goes,  of 
the  season — so  give  her  your  coronet,  pray,  and  ask  us 
all  down  to  Vauxley  for  Christmas.  By  the  way,  you 
know  her,  don't  you,  Claude  ?  You  can  tell  us  ah  about 
her.     Isn't  there  a  sister  a  co-heiress?" 

"  I  believe  so." 

"Believe  so  ?  when  you  stayed  in  the  same  house  with 
'em  at  Somerleyton  three  weeks  last  February  ?" 

"  Well  done,  old  fellojfr !"  cried  Curtis,  laughing.  "  The 
XXX  is  too  strong  for  you,  pauvre  garcon,  or  have 
you  met  some  Highland  Mary  here,  who's  turned  your 
brain?    Which  is  it? 


246  BELLES   AND   BLACKCOCK. 

"  Neither,"  said  Claude,  in  his  old  lazy  tone.  "  But. 
my  dear  Charlie,  how  can  you  possibly  expect  me  to  re- 
member two  girls  I  met  full  six  months  ago  ?  I  should 
want  scores  of  memorandum-books  merely  to  enter  all 
the  women  that  make  love  to  me.  Sufficient  for  the  day 
is  the  flirtation  thereof,  and  to  be  called  on  to  recollect 
mere  acquaintances  is  too  great  a  run  upon  any  man's 
memory." 

"  Well,"  said  I,  "  you  can  tell  us,  at  any  rate,  what 
Fitzcorrie's  find  is  like.  Never  pretend,  Claude,  that  the 
color  of  a  woman's  eyes,  or  the  size  of  her  ankle,  ever 
goes  out  of  your  mind." 

"  Can't  indeed,"  answered  Claude.  "  Blue  eyes  chase 
black,  hazel  succeed  grey,  in  very  quick  succession  in 
my  memory.  We  poor  soldiers,  you  know,  learn  to  be 
inconstant  in  our  own  defence.  If  we  couldn't  leave 
London  belles  for  bright  eyes  at  Exeter,  Exeter  eyes  for 
Devonport  waltzers,  and  Devonport  waltzers,  in  their 
turn,  for  Yorkshire  Die  Vernons,  with  a  proper  amount  of 
philosophy,  our  hearts  would  be  broken  in  as  many  pieces 
as  a  coquette  has  different  locks  of  hair.  I  say,  Dyneley, 
we  must  be  off  if  we  want  to  stalk  that  buck.  Mousque- 
taire  will  pull  him  down  if  any  hound  can.  I  envy  you 
that  dog. 

Fitzcorrie  came  down  the  day  after  to  Glengrouse,  one 
of  the  finest  estates  in  Scotland,  with  his  Viscountess,  a 
haughty  young  beauty,  Constance  and  Adeliza  Vande- 
leur,  and  several  men,  some  of  them  the  best  shots  in 
the  three  kingdoms.  Fitzcorrie,  one  of  the  keenest  de- 
baters in  the  House,  is  as  fresh  as  a  boy  again  when  he 
gets  upon  the  moors.  He  is  very  fond  of  Dyneley,  too, 
and  gave  us  all  carte  blanche  to  his  forests,  and  a  general 
invitation  to  go  whenever  we  liked  to  the  Castle,  where 
dinner  was  on  the  table  every  night  at  nine,  when  we 


BELLES  AND   BLACKCOCK.  247 

were  not  too  done  up  to  consider  ladies'  smiles  too  dearly 
bought  by  the  trouble  of  a  toilette,  and  to  preier  a 
haunch  and  some  Farintosh  in  bachelor  freedom  at  our 
snug  little  lodge. 

The  first  day  Dyneley  and  I  went  up  alone.  Glen- 
grouse  lay  just  across  the  river,  and  we  rode  there  in 
twenty  minutes  by  a  short  cut.  Claude  was  too  fagged, 
he  said,  to  endure  the  exertion  of  putting  himself  en 
grande  tenue,  and  Curtis  and  Romer  followed  his  example. 
We  found  a  good  sized  party.  Dyneley  took  Constance 
Vandeleur  in  to  dinner,  and  talked  to  her  a  good  deal, 
studying  her  with  a  keen,  critical  glance.  She  quite  de- 
served her  character  of  a  belle:  she  had  the  Irish  beauty, 
dark  hair  and  blue  eyes;  she  was  just  middle  height, 
graceful  and  natural,  with  nothing  of  the  parvenue  about 
her.  Adeliza  was  handsome  too,  but  much  more  haughty 
and  self-conscious;  she  came'down,  however,  to  Dyneley, 
whom  .she  tried  to  charm  away  from  her  sister,  for  Gra- 
ham (I  like  to  call  him  sometimes  by  the  old  boyish 
name)  has  a  very  soft,  gentle  way  with  women,  and  very 
amusing  conversation;  besides,  his  wandering  life,  his 
known  talents,  and  the  originality  and  daring  of  what 
he  had  written,  threw  a  sort  of  aroma  of  interest  round 
him. 

"Well,  what  do  you  think  of  your  proposed  wife?" 
said  I,  as  we  trotted  slowly  home,  smoking,  in  the  warm 
August  night. 

"  Do  as  well  as  another,  don't  you  think  ?" 
"Probably;  but  that  is  not  very  enthusiastic." 
"Enthusiasm  is  gone  by  for  me.     I've  done  with  it, 
and  I  don't  expect  ever  to  be  roused  into  it;  indeed,  I 
don't  wish  it." 

I  laughed.  "  You  make  yourself  out  very  philosophic, 
Gra,  but  it  seems  to  me  that  when  you  have  your  mind 


248  BELLES   AND   BLACKCOCK. 

set  upon  anything,  you're  much  as  impatient  and  ener- 
getic as  you  were  at  Eton." 

"In  sport,  very  likely;  and  if  I  resolve  upon  any  step' 
I  do  it  at  once.  But  I  assure  you,  Monti,  life  lias  tram- 
pled out  all  my  romance — and  so  best.  I  am  a  practical 
man  now.  I  expect  nothing  from  people,  so  I  shall  never 
be  disappointed,  as  I  was  in  my  green  youth,  when  I  in- 
dulged myself,  like  a  simpleton,  in  illusions  and  ideals, 
and  such  unprofitable  ware.  I  think  I  shall  marry  one  of 
these  Vandeleurs;  the  bargain  will  be  even.  I  have  the 
good  blood,  they  the  money.  Of  the  two,  I  prefer  the 
blue-eyed  one.  Constance,  isn't  she  called  ?  She  is  more 
livery  and  less  dignified ;  I  hate  a  dignified  woman.  She 
will  be  a  graceful  mistress  for  Vauxley.  What  do  I  want 
more  ?" 

"  'Love,'  poets  and  women  would  tell  you." 

"  Love,  my  dear  fellow  ?  I  never  expect  to  love  my 
wife,  do  you  ?  We  none  of  us  do  in  these  prudent  days. 
I  have  never  seen  any  one  worth  loving,  as  perhaps  I  could 
love  a  woman;  nor  do  I  wish  to  be  roused  into  anything 
so  stormy.  This  day  ten  years  I  shall  care  no  more  for 
Constance  or  her  sister,  if  I  marry  either,  than  I  do  now; 
but  either  of  them  will  keep  up  my  title,  head  my  table, 
make  me  an  accomplished  wife,  and,  as  I  am  tired  of 
vagabondising,  I  shall  absorb  myself  in  pohtical  life, 
dashed  with  some  good  sporting,  and  shall  be  a  very 
happy  man,  as  the  world's  happiness  goes.  Here  we  are. 
I'm  very  tired,  and  shall  be  glad  to  turn  in.  We  don't 
want  any  opiates  to-night.  Bonne  nuit,  old  fellow. 
How  grave  you  look,  Montague;  one  would  fancy  you 
were  thinking  of  marriage  yourself!" 

I  did  not  like,  somehow  or  other,  the  idea  of  Dyneley's 
selling  himself.  I  knew  his  nature,  and  I  thought — But, 
however,  I  remembered  this  is  a  barter  that  our  rigid 


BELLES  AND   BLACKCOCK.  249 

moralist  society  sanctions,  so  I  troubled  my  head  about 
it  no  more,  but  put  the  light  out  and  turned  in. 

During  the  next  few  days,  Dyneley,  Curtis,  and  I 
dined  once  or  twice  at  the  Castle.  Constance  was  very 
accomplished,  and  sang  splendidly,  and  would  have  been 
charming  but  for  a  distrait  manner  at  times  that  made  her 
spirits  as  variable  as  English  weather.  We  could  not  get 
Claude  up  to  Glengrouse;  one  day  he  was  dead-beat; 
another,  his  arm  had  the  tic  in  it:  another,  he  went  up 
in  the  evening  to  the  Upper  Water  to  fish;  and  two 
others,  he  separated  himself  from  us  about  noon,  and 
we  never  saw  any  more  of  him  till  nine  or  ten,  when 
he  came  in  after  a  stalk  or  a  hunt  for  ptarmigan  that 
would  have  shut  up  any  fellow  with  less  iron  nerves  than 
this  disciple  of  the  dolce. 

"  I  wish  I  could  get  Claude  up  here,"  Dyneley  was  say- 
ing to  Lady  Fitzcorrie  one  night.  "  He  has  a  beautiful 
voice,  and  would  help  you  with  those  duets.  He  is  a 
dear  old  fellow,  but  he  is  such  an  incorrigibly  lazy  dog, 
and  really,  after  the  day's  hard  work,  his  arm  that  was 
broken  by  a  spent  shot  pains  him  a  good  deal,  and  pre- 
vents his  enjoying  society." 

Constance,  standing  close  by  playing  with  a  spaniel, 
looked  up.  "  What  did  you  say,  Lord  Dyneley  ?  Did 
you  speak  to  me  ?" 

"I  was  saying  that  my  friend  Willoughby  would  make 
you  a  good  tenor.  But  you  know  him,  I  think.  Claude 
Willoughby  of  the  14th  ?" 

Constance  started  like  a  young  fawn — I  thought  of  it 
long  afterwards — and  bent  over  the  spaniel,  while  her 
voice  trembled :  "  Captain  Willoughby  ?  Where  is  he  ? 
Is  he  here?" 

"He  is  staying  with  us  at  Glenmist,"  said  Dyneley, 
without  noticing  her  particularly.     "I  will  drag  him  here 

11* 


250  BELLES  ANT)  BLACKCOCK. 

somehow    to-morrow,   if    his   arm    will    give   him    any 
peace." 

The  young  lady  flushed  up  and  said,  rapidly  crossing 
the  room  to  the  conservatory  before  she  could  have  an 
answer,  "If  we  are  such  betes  noires  to  him,  pray  do 
not  try  to  force  him  here  against  his  will.  Do  you  en- 
courage such  cavalier  treatment,  Florence  ?" 

"  Oh !"  said  Lady  Fitzcorrie,  shrugging  her  snowy 
shoulders,  "  with  the  vieille  cour  of  the  Trianon  all  cour- 
tesy died  out  in  Europe.  That  rude  fop,  Brummel,  mis- 
took impertinence  for  wit,  and  his  disciples  out-Herod 
Herod." 

Constance,  had  disappeared  in  the  labyrinths  of  the 
conservatory,  and  left  Dyneley  to  conduct  the  defence, 
which  that  witty  conversationalist  sustained  very  ably. 

The  next  day  we  were  to  have  a  grand  drive,  and  Fitz- 
corrie, ready  to  like  Willoughby  as  Dyneley  liked  him 
would  not  let  him  off.  The  day  was  fine,  the  wind  just 
right,  and  there  was  a  magnificent  herd  of  fifty  or  more 
stags  and  hinds.  We  killed  five  of  them.  Dyneley's 
was  a  royal;  he  had  wounded  him  mortally  before  Mous- 
quetaire  pulled  him  down.  Claude's  and  Fitzcorrie's 
had  nine' points  each ;  and  altogether,  I  shoidd  say  five 
finer  stags  were  never  killed  in  the  same  drive.  "We  all 
went  to  the  Castle  to  dinner;  Fitzcorrie,  as  I  said,  would 
not  let  Claude  off,  spite  of  the  tic;  he  told  him  Lafitte 
and  Eudesheimer  were  the  best  cures  for  neuralgia,  and 
Claude  had  to  accede.  I  could  not  imagine  why  he 
shunned  the  Castle;  for  no  sport  was  generally  so  agree- 
able to  the  "  Crusher  "  as  a  new  flirtation,  and  he  would 
leave  any  quarry  to  go  after  the  beaux  yeux.  As  we 
crossed  the  park  in  front  of  the  house,  we  saw  the  Vis- 
countess and  the  Vandeleurs  taking  a  stroll  before  dinner 
on  the  terrace,  with  two  or  three  other  ladies  staying  there 


BELLES   AND  BLACKCOCK.  251 

"There,"  said  Fitzcorrie,  lifting  his  bonnet  to  them, 
"  don't  you  think,  Willoughby,  that  I've  chosen  well  for 
our  friend?  That's  the  future  Lady  Dyneley;  the  one  in 
white  silk  walking  with  Florence.  Is  she  not  really  very 
pretty?" 

The  Light  Dragoon's  soft  black  eyes  flashed,  and  he 
answered  rather  incoherently,  stroking  his  chestnut  mous- 
tache, something  to  the  effect  that  near  Lady  Fitzcorrie 
no  one  coidd  hope  to  shine. 

The  old  Viscount  smiled.  He  was  proud  of  his  hand- 
some young  wife,  who,  like  Themistocles's  lady,  ruled 
the  ruler  of  Athens. 

The  Viscountess  came  down  the  steps  laughing  at  some 
flowery  speech  of  Eomer's  to  her;  Adeliza  smiled  most 
generously  at  Dyneley,  and  began  to  inquire  about  our 
sport.  Constance  stood  still,  playing  with  the  fuchsia 
in  a  vase;  all  the  color  was  out  of  her  cheeks,  but  that 
might  be  the  heat.  It  came  back  in  a  rush,  though,  as 
Claude  lifted  his  cap  to  her,  spoke  a  few  words  to  Adeliza, 
and  then  leant  on  his  gun  in  a  silence  and  indifference 
very  unlike  the  tenderness  and  empressement  of  his  gen- 
eral manner  with  the  sex.  Dyneley  put  his  arm  through 
his  and  pulled  him  up  the  steps  towards  her. 

"  Lady  Constance,  here  is  your  Giuglini.  You've 
heard  him,  I  dare  say,  so  I  needn't  advertise  his  vocal 
powers;  but  I  wish  I  had  them,  for  when  I  am  hard  up, 
as  I  too  often  am,  I  would  have  a  concert  at  the  Crystal 
Palace  and  replenish  my  exchequer." 

Claude's  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  girl  with  a  look  I  could 
not  exactly  translate.     He  laughed  lightly,  however. 

"My  dear  fellow,  you'd  make  me  out  a  second  Sims 
Reeves;  but  Lady  Constance  knows  better  than  to  be- 
lieve you — that  is,  if  her  memoiy  does  Somerleyton  the 
honor  of  remembering  any  of  the  evenings  there." 


252  BELLES    AND   BLACKCOCK. 

This  simple  remark  had  great  effect  on  Constance. 
Though  she  was  a  belle,  and  had  just  run  the  gauntlet  of 
her  first  season,  and  should,  therefore,  have  been  self- 
possessed  and  impassive,  her  face  glowed  very  couleur  de 
rose,  and  she  pulled  the  poor  fuchsia  mercilessly. 

"  You  appear  to  regard  Somerleyton  as  a  very  dim  era 
of  the  past,"  she  said,  quickly.  "I  have  a  sufficiently 
good  memory  to  be  able  to  go  back  as  far  as  last  March. 
You,  however,  have  probably  things  of  newer  interest  to 
chase  it  out  of  your  mind." 

"  I  am  a  poor  cavalry  man,  Lady  Constance,  with  noth- 
ing but  my  holster  pistols  and  charger;  and  as  I  am  sure 
of  being  forgotten,  I  am  glad  enough  to  teach  myself  to 
forget,"  answered  Claude,  smiling,  as  he  calmly  stroked 
his  moustaches,  and  played  with  a  setter's  ears'. 

"  You  would  throw  Hermione's  name,  then,  into  the 
fountain  of  oblivion  without  mercy?"  said  the  young 
beauty  through  her  white  teeth,  but  laughing  carelessly 
too. 

"Why  not?     Hermione  would  throw  mine." 

"  Constance,"  cried  Lady  Fitzcorrie,  "  come  and  look 
at  Dyneley's  dog.  This  is  the  famous  Mousquetaire; 
isn't  he  a  fine  fellow  ?" 

Constance  bent  over  Mousquetaire,  praising  and  car- 
essing him  most  sedulously;  and  her  sister  joined  us, 
glancing  at  Mousquetaire's  master,  who,  leaning  on  his 
rifle,  with  his  cap  drawn  down  on  his  white  forehead, 
looked,  as  I  heard  a  young  lady  with  light  eyes  whisper, 
"just  like  the  dear  Corsair."  As  we  looked  at  the  Van- 
deleurs  and  Mousquetaire,  I  dare  say  we  all  thought  of 
"  LoY,e  me,  love  my  dog." 

Dyneley  took  Constance  in  to  dinner,  and  made  himself 
charming,  as  he  could  when  he  liked,  better  than  any 
man  I  know.     Claude  sat  opposite  to  them,  and  talked 


BELLES   AND  BLACKCOCK.  253 

ceaselessly  to  the  young  lady  with  light  eyes,  whose  in- 
tellect, being  of  narrowed  limits,  took  his  random  wit 
literally,  and,  I  dare  say,  put  a  mem.  of  him  in  her  Diary 
with  the  green  velvet  cover  and  patent  embossed  lock, 
interlining  all  her  adjectives:  "Sat  next  Captain  Wil- 
loughby.  He  has  beautiful  black  eyes  and  fair  hair,  but 
is  rather  peculiar.  I  have  heard  of  officers  so  shocked  by 
the  scene  of  the  battle-field,  that  they  have  never  quite 
recovered  their  senses.  He  tells  me  that  he  has  so  bad 
a  memory,  that  the  day  after  Balaklava  he  was  obliged 
to  ask  his  servant  how  he  got  the  cut  on  his  sword  arm, 
I  cannot  believe  it.  I  noticed  Constance  look  at  him  very 
oddly  while  he  was  talking  to  me.  I  hope  he  is  not  mad, 
he  is  so  handsome." 


ni. 


THE  LITTLE  DIAMOND  IN  THE  DESERT. 

A  morning  or  two  after,  Dyneley  and  I  went  out  by 
ourselves.  Alister  was  gone  with  Curtis  and  Homer  to 
the  head  of  the  loch  to  drag  for  pike;  Claude  had  taken 
his  gun,  and  said  he  should  walk  up  to  the  pools,  and 
have  a  shot  at  the  ducks;  and  Dyneley  and  I,  with 
Mousquetaire  and  a  brace  of  setters,  had  a  fancy  to  try 
the  glen  for  black  game,  and,  if  we  found  a  roe,  so  much 
the  better.  We  had  good  sport  till  two  o'clock,  when 
the  pony  met  us,  as  usual,  by  the  falls,  and  we  threw 
ourselves  down  by  the  river-side  under  some  willows  to 
cool  our  throats  with  Prestonpans,  and  perfume  the 
woods  and  hills  with  our  after-luncheon  pipe.  The 
pipes  and  beer  made  us  fresh  again,  and,  after  a  talk  of 


254  BELLES   AND   BLACKCOCK. 

old  Eton  days  and  fun  we  had  had  together  in  the 
Aphrodite,  of  wild  things  we  had  done  together,  and  of 
dark  days  in  his  life,  in  which  I  only  knew  how  he  had 
suffered  or  sinned,  we  got  up  to  blaze  away  anew  at  the 
blackcock.  "Let  bygones  be  bygones.  They  give  me 
the  blue  devils  to  recal  them!"  said  he,  springing  up. 
"  My  life  has  never  been  very  bright,  and  never  will  be. 
I  laughed  the  other  day,  when  I  read  in  the  Literary 
Lorgnon,  speaking  of  me  and  my  works — '  This  brilliant 
and  wayward  peer  has  been  singularly  favored  by  fortune. 
With  descent  as  pure  as  any  in  the  peerage,  and  talents 
daring  and  original,  all  the  fairies,  as  Macaulay  writes  of 
Byron,  have  surely  blessed  his  birth.'  Good,  wasn't  it  ? 
If  the  fairies  were  at  my  birth,  there  must  have  been  a 
devil  or  two  among  them  who  marred  it  all.  Those 
double-distilled  donkeys  should  know  more  of  a  man's 
life  before  they  venture  to  relate  it.  I  was. made  to  be  a 
happy  man,  I  think,  but,  somehow,  I've  missed  it.  To 
ho!  Steady,  Bluebell!  Two  brace.  Nice  birds,  are 
they  not  ?  Wait  a  moment !  By  Jove,  Monti,  look  here ! 
this  is  the  slot  of  a  deer,  and  a  fresh  one,  too." 

" That  it  is,"  said  I.  "What  glorious  luck!  Audit's 
a  good  large  one.  Let's  go  over  the  hill,  and  look  down 
the  other  side." 

"All  right,"  said  Dyneley,  taking  his  rifle;  and  send- 
ing the  little  gillie,  with  the  pony,  guns,  and  setters, 
round  to  the  pass  to  which  it  was  most  likely  the  deer 
would  head,  we  began  the  stalk.  We  did  the  two  miles 
over  the  hill  quickly,  and,  looking  through  the  glass,  we 
spied  a  stag's  horn  far  away  crouching  among  the 
heather.  There  was  but  one  way  of  stalking  him — a 
very  stiff  pull,  and  a  good  part  of  it  in  full  view  of  the 
stag;  but  we  would  have  gone  through  Avernus  to  have 
a  shot  at  him.     Away  went  Dyneley  at  the  swinging  pace 


BELLES   AND  BLACKCOCK.  255 

that  had  taken  him  across  the  Cordilleras  and  Himalayas, 
and  I  after  him,  though  when  it  came  to  the  serpentine 
crawl  I  confess  he  outdid  me,  and  swore  a  trifle  at  me 
for  being  such  a  slow  coach.  Over  the  slippery  rocks, 
up  to  our  knees  in  a  burn,  pushing  through  the  tangled 
brushwood,  we  went  on  and  for  miles,  and  when  Dy- 
neley  climbed  to  the  top  of  the  glen,  and  looked  through 
his  glass,  he  found  the  stag  had  used  his  legs  as  well  as 
we,  and  he  could  just  make  out  his  antlers  as  he  had  lain 
down  to  rest  again  among  the  heather.  A  long  dance 
that  unhappy  beast  led  us;  but  had  we  been  ten  times 
worse  beat,  wasn't  it  worth  it  all  to  hear  the  ping  of  Dy- 
neley's  bullet  as  it  bedded  itself  in  the  stag's  shoulder, 
and  see  Mousquetaire,  after  a  short  chase,  spring  at  his 
throat,  and  pull  him  down,  covered  with  the  reeking 
blood  of  his  gallant  captive?  Bravo!  my  veins  tingle 
when  I  think  of  it.  Oh!  your  rose  wreaths,  and  your 
Falernian  and  Epicurean  joys,  what  are  they  all  to  a  long 
day  among  the  corries  and  glens  with  No.  4  and  dear  old 
Purdey,  and  a  royal  hart  in  sight ! 

But  all  pleasures  are  bought  with  a  price — at  least,  so 
those  prosy  old  gentlemen  the  moralists  say;  and  to  pun- 
ish us  for  our  pride  and  exaltation  in  having  stalked  and 
shot  one  of  the  finest  stags  of  the  season,  lo !  Dyneley 
and  I  found  ourselves — lost !  Lost,  as  if  we  were  the 
two  babes  in  the  wood  of  time-honored  celebrity,  only, 
as  Gra  remarked,  there  were,  unhappily,  no  dead  leaves 
and  robins  to  finish  us  pathetically,  there  being  nothing 
on  the  moors  but  heather  and  black  game.  Lost  we 
were :  two  men  who  had  been  over  almost^very  inch  of 
ground  in  the  Old  World  and  the  New !  It  was  too* 
ridiculous,  but  it  was  getting  late ;  we  had  come  out  into 
a  distant  part  of  the  moor  we  had  never  shot  over;  a  mist 
had  enveloped  everything  in  density,  and  in  the  opaque 


256  BELLES  AND   BLACKCOCK. 

atmosphere  neither  he   nor  I  could  have  told  our  way 
back  to  the  lodge,  to  save  our  lives. 

"It's  pitch  dark,  Monti,"  laughed  he,  drawing  his  plaid 
tighter.  "We're  in  for  it,  I  expect.  Do  you  mind 
camping  out  ?  We've  done  it  many  a  time.  It  makes 
one  rather  stiff  in  the  morning,  though,  that's  the  worst 
of  it;  but  wibh  plaids  and  flasks  one  oughtn't  to  com. 
plain.  I've  been  worse  off  before  now.  Have  you  any 
fusees  there  ?" 

I  had  not,  nor  had  he.  He  tried  to  get  a  light  with 
two  sticks,  but  the  wood  would  not  catch,  it  was  too 
danrp. 

"  Hang  it !"  cried  Dyneley,  throwing  them  away  im- 
patiently— patience  is  not  in  his  composition — "to  stay 
till  morning  without  a  pipe  ! — impossible  !  Never  suf- 
fered such  a  deprivation  since  I  was  seven,  and  smoked 
my  first  Queen !  And  besides,  the  stag !  Devil  take  it, 
Monti,  I  will  get  home !     Come  along." 

Easier  said  than  done.  After  we  had  bled  and  gral- 
locked  the  deer,  and  tied  a  handkerchief  to  his  horns,  we 
blundered  on  through  the  dark,  he  pushing  his  way  with 
his  usual  reckless  impetuosity,  till  it  was  a  mercy  he 
didn't  pitch  himself  down  some  precipice,  or  brain  him- 
self against  a  rock,  till  we  were  on  the  top  of  the  hill  on 
whose  side  we  had  killed  the  stag.  We  looked  round; 
there  was  plenty  of  dense  fog  and  inky  sky;  nothing 
more  perceptible  tiU  Dyneley,  who  has  the  quick  eye  and 
ear  of  the  Indians,  with  whom  he  has  hunted,  caught 
sight  of  a  little  light  flashing  in  and  out  of  the  mist. 

"Look  there!"  said  he;  "that's  a  homestead  of  some 
sort.  If  it's  only  a  hut,  it's  better  than  nothing.  The 
shepherd  can  put  us  right.  Hie,  Mousquetaire !  show 
us  the  way,  old  boy." 

Mousquetaire — certainly  the  cleverest  dog  I  ever  knew 


BELLES   AND   BLACKCOCK.  257 

— looked  in  his  face  with  his   wise,  clear,  brown   eyes, 
sniffed,  paused,  and  set  off  at  a  trot  down  the  hill. 

"He'll  take  us  right,"  said  Dyneley,  who,  skeptic 
though  he  is  in  human  flesh,  has  unbounded  faith  in 
Mousquetaire. 

He  did  take  us  right.  After  groping  our  way,  many 
times  within  an  inch  of  our  lives,  with  many  headlong 
descents  that  would  have  seemed  perils  gigantic  to 
Brown,  Jones,  and  Robinson  touring  for  a  fortnight  on 
leave  from  Twining's  or  Barclay's,  we  found  Mousquetaire 
heading  us  to  a  gate  before  the  garden  of  a  house,  "in 
one  of  whose  windows  the  blessed  light  was  still  twink- 
ling. 

"  Quite  romantic.  "What  a  pity  we  are  not  eighteen, 
to  magnify  it  into  an  adventure,"  whispered  Dyneley, 
"  Whose  house  is  it,  I  wonder  ?  Do  you  see  a  bell  or  a 
knocker  anywhere  about  ?  I  thought  nothing  but  black 
game  keepers  and  shepherds  dwelt  in  these  parts.  The 
deuce,  Monti,  look  up  there.  What  a  pretty  face !  quite 
Kembrandtesque." 

I  looked  up  to  where  he  pointed.     It  was  a  bedroom 
window — the  identical  one  that  had  our  light  in  it;  there 
were  no  blinds,  or  at  least  they  were  not  drawn  down 
and  before  the  glass  stood  a  young  girl  putting  fuchsia 
sprays  into  her  hair.     She  was  very  picturesque  even  to 
our  tired  eyes — at  least,  in  this  dismal  night  she  seemed 
so.     At   a  concert,  or   an  opera,  or  a  crush,  we   might 
never  have  thought  of  her.     She  was  smiling  at  herself 
as  she  twisted  the  flowers  in  her  shining  gold  hair;  there 
was  no  self-consciousness  or  art  of  the  toilette  about  her, 
and  it  was  pretty  to  see  her  put  them  in  and  pull  them 
out,  and  laugh  at  herself  all  the  while.     At  last  she  threw 
some  of  the  rejected  flowers  down   and   glanced  up  at 
the  night,  a  sad  expression  stealing  over  her  face,  so  full 


258  BELLES  AND  BLACKCOCK. 

of  fun  a  moment  ago.  Then  she  left  the  window,  and 
Dyneley,  finding  the  knocker,  performed  on  it  as  loudly 
as  a  Belgravian  flunkey,  only  with  much  more  impatience 
of  entrance.  There  was  considerable  delay,  and  an 
amount  of  talk  on  the  other  side  of  the  door,  such  as  is 
customary  in  small  households  when  an  unexpected  in- 
road is  made  upon  their  domestic  peace.  The  bolt  was 
then  drawn  back,  and  the  door  cautiously  opened  by  a 
Scotch  housemaid,  prim  and  plain,  no  very  inviting  sou- 
brette,  with  "  Avaunt  thee  !  thou  art  an  Ishmaelite,"  writ- 
ten on  her  brow,  as  Dyneley  briefly  stated  the  case,  and 
asked  if  he  could  see  her  master  for  a  moment. 

"  Ye  canna;  he's  gane  oot,"  was  the  grim  reply. 

"  Can  I  see  any  one,  then,  who  will  direct  me  my  way 
back  to  Glenmist?" 

"  I  douna  say,  sirs;  ye'd  best  gang  aff  as  ye  came,"  she 
answered,  almost  closing  the  door. 

"  My  good  woman,  is  this  your  Highland  hospitality  ?" 
said  Dyneley,  impatiently.  "  I  tell  you,  we  have  lost  our 
road.  Can't  you  tell  us,  at  least,  which  way  we  ought  to 
take?" 

"What  do  those  gentlemen  want,  Elsie  ?"  said  a  young, 
clear  voice. 

By  George !  it  was  the  little  bedroom  beauty  herself, 
coming  out  of  a  room  into  the  hall,  with  the  identical 
fuchsias  round  her  head. 

"  Gentlemen  !  I  ken  they're  some  lying  loons,"  mut- 
tered the  female  Cerberus.  "  Keep  awa',  Miss  Lilla,  the 
wind's  cauld." 

She  was  closing  the  door  in  our  faces,  but  Dyneley 
pushed  it  back  with  one  arm,  entered,  and,  raising  his 
cap,  apologised  to  Miss  Lilla  for  the  intrusion,  and  ex- 
plained to  her  how  we  stood  lost  on  the  moors,  we  knew 
not  how  many  miles  from  Glenmist. 


BELLES   AND  BLACKCOCK.  259 

She  looked  up  at  him  earnestly  as  he  spoke — I  dare  say 
such  a  specimen  as  Dyneley  wasn't  often  seen  up  there — 
and  answered  him  unhesitatingly. 

"  You  have  lost  your  way  ?  Pray  come  in  and  rest  till 
my  uncle  returns.  He  will  be  back  soon;  he's  only  just 
gone  round  the  farm,  and  will  be  most  happy  to  put  you 
en  route  again." 

She  spoke  as  naturaUy  as  a  child,  but  with  as  much 
good  breeding  as  Lady  Constance  at  a  levee.  We  thought 
our  lines  had  fallen  in  pleasant  places,  so  accepted  the 
invitation  joyfully.     Not  so  did  Elsie  hear  it  given." 

"  Miss  Lilla,"  she  muttered,  angrily,  "  are  ye  daft  to 
daur  let  in  these  laddies,  and  yer  uncle  awa',  too !" 

"  Silence  !"  said  Lilla,  with  an  impatient  gesture; 
"Show  these  gentlemen  into  the  drawing-room,  and  send 
Robbie  to  see  for  my  uncle." 

"  By  Jove  !  Monti,"  whispered  Dyneley,  as  he  took  off 
his  wet  plaid,  "  this  high-bred  little  beauty  and  her  draw- 
ing room,  with  this  antiquated  portress,  and  an  uncle 
who's  out  on  his  farm,  is  an  odd  anomaly.  I  say,  drop 
the  title  here;  let  me  be  Graham  Vavasour,  as  I  was  at 
Eton,  will  you?" 

"  If  you  choose,  but  I  don't  see  why." 

"  I  do,  and  that's  enough,"  said  my  lord,  shortly,  as  we 
entered  the  drawing  room  aforesaid,  a  long,  low  room, 
simply  but  tastefully  arranged,  with  no  consoles,  mirrors, 
statuettes,  or  Buhl  cabinets  about  it,  but  still  with  a 
nameless  something  of  refinement,  and  in  it  the  diamond 
of  the  desert,  our  wild  gowan  of  the  moors.  Dyneley 
introduced  himself  and  me  with  a  certain  charm  of  man- 
ner he  possesses,  which  takes  with  every  woman  living, 
when  he  chooses  to  exert  it,  and  would,  a  witty  Rosiere 
once  told  him,  have  won  that  chill  bit  of  propriety,  Pe- 
nelope herself,  into  forgetfulness  of  her  wandering  lord. 


260  BELLES  AND   BLACKCOCK. 

The  little  Highland  chatelaine  was  easy  to  talk  to.  She 
was  lively,  unaffected,  and  not  shy;  indeed,  her  manners 
would  have  done  credit  to  a  debutante  of  the  best  ton, 
so  young  and  natural  was  she.  She  told  us  her  uncle  was 
a  tenant  of  Lord  Fitzcorrie;  her  own  name  Lilian  Car- 
donnel;  she  did  not  like  Scotland,  she  said,  it  was  so 
cold,  so  dull. 

"You  have  not  lived  here  always,  then?"  said  Dyneley. 

"Oh  no,"  she  said,  with  a  look  of  horror  at  the  idea. 
"  Till  the  last  six  months  I  have  lived  in  Italy — dear,  dear 
Italy.  You  cannot  tell  how  I  love  it.  The  skies  are  so 
blue,  the  sun  so  bright  there." 

"  From  Italy  to  the  Highlands !"  cried  Dyneley.  "  What 
a  change !  You  must  feel  your  exile  as  much  as  Mary 
Stuart  did." 

Her  eyes  looked  pitifully  sad  as  she  said,  with  a  laugh, 

"  Yes,  like  Kachel,  I  shall  die  with  Camille's  words  on 
my  lips: 

Albe,  mon  cher  pays  et  mon  premier  amour." 

This  was  growing  very  amusing,  and  we  could  have 
cursed  her  uncle's  advent  cheerfully,  when  shortly  after- 
wards he  came  in  and  interrupted  us. 

Duncairn  was  a  tall,  stern-looking  fellow  of  fifty  or 
so,  with  a  keen,  honest  physiognomy,  his  manners  rather 
formal  and  stiff,  but  heartily  hospitable.  He  was  a  cu- 
rious contrast  to  his  niece — He  could  have  acted  Virgin- 
ius.  on  occasion,  I  should  say,  if  he  had  chanced  to  live 
in  those  severe  ages— but  he  was  a  very  good  host  to 
us,  pressed  us  to  supper,  offered  us  beds,  would  not 
hear  of  our  stirring  out  in  the  storm  that  had  now  set 
in,  and  said  he  was  delighted  to  show  any  attention  to 
Mends  of  Lord  Fitzcorrie's.  So  to  supper  we  went,  to 
a  table  full  of  Highland  dainties,  whisky,  and  XXX,  as 


BELLES   AND   BLACKCOCK.  261 

good  as  we  should  have  had  up  at  Glengrouse,  and  little 
Lilla  did  the  honors  with  as  much  grace  and  self-pos- 
session as  any  one  of  the  Castle  belles.  Dyneley  is  reck- 
oned very  proud:  so  he  is  to  pretentious  snobs.  He  has 
made  many  enemies  for  life  by  declining  to  know  nou- 
veaux  riches,  and  by  putting  down  that  detestable,  stuck 
up,  yet  always  servile,- noblesse  of  money.  But  he  will 
be  courteous  to  a  sweej)  where  he  would  snub  a  duke, 
and  to  Duncairn,  whom  he  found  to  be  a  sensible  man, 
who  tried  to  make  himself  out  no  more  than  he  was,  Dyn- 
eley was  cordial  and  charming.  To  be  sure,  looking  on 
him  were  a  pair  of  very  bright  eyes,  and  the  beaux  yeux 
level  rank  while  their  spell  is  on  us,  though  he,  the  well- 
known  Eastern  traveller,  wayward  author,  and  blase 
peer,  was  probably  above  such  weaknesses.  Duncairn 
was  a  man  of  few  words — guano  is  apt  to  sodden  brains 
— but  Lilla  made  up  for  the  deficiency;  her  tongue  ran 
on  about  fifty  topics,  and  she  really  talked  well,  too. 

"  Isn't  there  a  Lord  Dyneley  staying  somewhere  in  the 
neighborhood  ?"  asked  Lilla,  at  length. 

"Yes,"  said  Graham.     "  Do  you  know  him?" 

"No;  but  I  know  his  books,  and  I  love  them.  Don't 
you  ?  Besides,  I  have  read  in  the  reviews  of  his  restless 
wanderings,  his  great  talents,  his  wild  adventures,  till  I 
have  an  intense  curiosity  to  see  him.     Is  it  all  true  ?" 

"  That  he  has  led  a  strange  wild  life  ?"  said  Dyneley, 
with  grave  tranquillity.  "I  believe  so,  and  of  course, 
having  run  over  the  whole  of  the  globe,  he  has  met  with 
some  few  adventures.  But  as  to  the  reviews,  you  mustn't 
credit  them.  Some  paint  him  in  much  too  glowing, 
others  in  too  satanical  colors,  though  most  likely  he  has 
more  of  the  demon  than  the  angel  about  him,  like  all  the 
rest  of  us  men." 

"  And  is  he  handsome  ?"  asked  Lilla. 


262         -  BELLES  AND   BLACKCOCK. 

"  Some  women  tell  hirn  he  is.  I  don't  think  him  so 
myself." 

"But  gentlemen  can  never  judge  one  another,"  she 
said,  laughing.  "  I  want  dreadfully  to  see  him.  I  wish 
they  would  put  his  portrait  in  the  Illustrated.  Do  you 
think  they  will?" 

"I'm  afraid  he's  not  celebre  enough  for  that  question- 
able honor,"  said  Graham,  smiling.  "  He'll  never  be  a 
lord  mayor,  you  see,  or  a  pet  preacher.  Perhaps,  if  they 
want  to  fill  up  a  corner,  they  may  stick  in  an  imaginary 
picture,  and  put  his  name  under  it.  But  if  you  really 
care  for  his  portrait,  Miss  Cardonnel,  I  will  ask  him  to 
sit  to  me.  I  know  him  very  well,  and  he  will  in  a  mo- 
ment, if  he  knows  the  honor  you  do  him." 

"Will  you?"  cried  Lilla.  "Oh!  thank  you,  Mr.  Va- 
vasour. How  charming  that  would  be !  I  have  engrav- 
ings of  Bulwer,  and  Thackeray,  and  ail  my  darlings  up 
in  my  room,  and  I  should  so  love  to  have  Lord  Dyneley, 
too.  "What  an  incessant  traveller  he  has  been !  Meet- 
ing him  on  the  high  road,  one  might  say  to  him,  as  they 
said  to  the  Chevalier  de  Boufflers,  '  I  am  happy  to  meet 
you  at.  home.'" 

"  "What  a  little  wonder  that  is,  to  be  found  in  a  High- 
land farm-house,"  said  Dyneley,  when,  shown  up  to  our 
rooms,  he  came  into  mine  to  have  a  last  pipe.  Lilla  had 
not  in  the  least  objected  to  tobacco,  but  stayed  in  the 
fumes  of  the  Cavendish,  laughing  and  talking,  though 
Dyneley  would  have  gone  without  his  darling  nicotine 
rather  than  offend  her  olfactorv  nerves,  if  she  had  not 
threatened  to  leave  the  room  if  he  did  not  follow  Dun- 
cairn's  example,  and  take  his  meerschaum — a  threat 
which  soon  induced  Graham  to  light  it.  "  'Pon  my  life, 
Monti,  she's  very  entertaining,  and  her  manners  are  so 
graceful,  exactly  the  juste-milieu,  neither  shy  nor  bold, 


BELLES   AND   BLACKCOCK.  263 

though  I  dare  say  some  fools  might  misconstrue  her 
frankness  and  vivacity.  She  must  have  been  brought 
up  in  good  society.  How  on  earth  does  she  come  to  be 
buried  here,  poor  little  thing  ?" 

"  She  seems  to  interest  you,"  said  I. 

"Yes,  she  does.  She  puts  me  in  mind  of  finding  a 
flower  up  among  the  snow  on  the  Aigre." 

"Quite  poetic!" 

"Don't  be  sarcastic,  Monti;  that's  my  line.  I  haven't 
much  poetry  left  in  me,  thank  Heaven;  it's  an  unprofit- 
able commodity  that  the  world  estimates  very  low  indeed. 
Before  I  knew  the  world  I  wrote  sonnets;  now  I  know 
it,  I  write  satires." 

"  Nevertheless,  you  seem  so  struck  with  this  little  wild 
gowan,  that  we  may  live  to  see  you  writing  '  Glenmist 
braes  are  bonny,'  a  la  Douglas  of  Finland,  yet." 

"  And  keeping  faithful  to  '  Annie  Laurie,'  who  jilts  me 
and  marries  Craigdarroch  ?  Thank  you;  I  don't  think 
that  is  much  like  my  role.  I'm  afraid  I  have  been  more 
sinner  than  victim  in  the  matter  of  faithlessness." 

"  So  the  poor  gowan  will  find,  I'll  bet.  With  such  a 
romantic  beginning,  you  can't  reject  the  goods  the  gods 
have  sent  you." 

Dyneley  laughed.  Then  he  said  with  his  pipe  between 
his  teeth,  "  No  !  I'll  be  merciful  for  once.  I  won't  brush 
the  dew  off  your  gowan,  as  you  call  her.  Who's  poetical 
now,  I  wonder  ?  Neither  you  nor  I  would  do  the  poor 
flower  much  good." 

"Very  possibly;  but  neither  you  nor  I  are  much  given 
to  pausing  for  that  consideration." 

Fresh  and  fair  "  the  gowan "  looked  when  she  came 
down  to  breakfast,  unconscious  of  our  remarks  concern- 
ing her,  and  beamed  on  "  Mr.  Vavasour  "  a  bright  good 
morning  smile.     With  Lilian  Cardonnel  it  was  not  her 


o 


264:  BELLES   AND   BLACKCOCK. 

face,  though  that  was  pretty  enough,  nor  her  brain, 
though  that  was  clever  enough,  but,  as  we  say  of  Picco- 
loniini,  it  was  her  ways  that  had  such  a  charm  for  us.  I 
have  heard  ladies  very  spiteful  on  the  little  Italian  be- 
cause we  say  so,  and  so  I  dare  say  they  woiild  have  been 
on  Lilla,  had  any  known  her,  ladies  being  generally  ad- 
dicted to  those  "nice  quiet  girls,  Avhom  they  like  because 
we  don't  (I  never  heard  one  woman  praise  another  unless 
she  could  damn  her  with  that  detestable  little  epithet 
"quiet");  but,  as  it  was,  fortunately  Lilla  had  more  len- 
ient judges,  and  Dyneley's  and  my  verdict,  when  we  bade 
her  good-by,  was  "  charming,"  and  infinitely  too  good  to 
be  buried  away  in  the  solitude  of  the  moors. 

After  breakfast  I  went  with  Duncairn  to  see  some 
prize  heifers  of  his.  Dyneley,  who  never  cares  a  straw 
for  cattle  and  corn,  preferred  the  entertainment  in- 
doors, where  they  got  on  very  well,  I  dare  say,  for 
when  we  came  back  she  was  sitting  on  a  low  stool, 
with  Mousquetaire  at  her  feet,  and  he  was  leaning  over 
her,  looking  at  her  drawings.  She  had  never  been 
taught,  but  had  real  talent,  as  became  a  native  of  Rome, 
and  thfty  were  as  good  friends  as  if  they  had  known 
each  other  twelve  months.  "When  we  started  homewards, 
Lilla  offered  to  guide  us  to  the  top  of  the  hill  about  a 
couple  of  miles'  distance,  whence  we  could  find  our  way 
to  the  glen,  and  a  very  pleasant  walk  we  had  with  our 
lively  little  cicerone.  We  were  quite  loth  to  part  with 
her  when  we  came  to  the  hill.  Dyneley  stood  still,  and 
watered  her  run  down  the  slope  homewards  as  fast  as  a 
greyhound.  When  she  reached  the  bottom,  she  turned 
too,  to  see  if  he  was  gone.  He  took  off  his  cap  to  her, 
woved  his  hand,  and  came  on  with  a  smile  on  his 
lips. 

A.  couple  of  nights  after  we  dined  at  the  Castle,  and 


BELLES  AND   BLACKCOCK.  2G5 

plenty  of  chaffing  we  got  for  having  lost  our  way  on  the 
moors. 

"So  a  tenant  of  mine  gave  you  house  room!"  said 
Fitzcorrie.  "Did  you  see  little  Lilla?  Of  course  you 
did,  though.  Trust  you  to  be  in  the  same  house  with  a 
pretty  woman  and  not  ferret  her  out !" 

"  Oh  yes,"  said  Dyneley.  "  I  saw  her,  and  a  pretty, 
dear  little  thing  she  is.  But,  by  Jove  !  Fitzcorrie,  she's 
utterly  out  of  place  there.  How  does  she  come  to  be- 
long to  a  farmer,  of  all  horrible  things  ?  She  must  have 
some  gentle  blood  in  her  veins." 

"  You're  right,  old  fellow,"  said  the  Viscount.  "Though 
it's  certainly  a  good  idea  to  ask  me  for  the  genealogies  of 
my  tenants,  I  can  tell  you  something  about  that.  You've 
heard  me  talk  of  poor  Charlie  Cardonnel;  he  was  a  great 
chum  of  mine  in  the  old  college  days,  and  there  couldn't 
have  been  a  better  fellow  if  he  hadn't  been  so  miserably  ro- 
mantic. "Well,  one  luckless  Long,  Charlie  came  to  shoot 
with  me  up  here,  and  became  dreadfully  spoony  over 
Duncairn's  sister  Lillian.  She  was  the  beauty  of  Argyle- 
shire,  and  Charlie,  poor  dear  fellow  ! — you'll  hardly  credit 
it,  I  dare  say — was  actually  fool  enough  to  marry  her — 
marry  her — a  yeoman's  daughter !  To  marry  young,  we 
all  know,  is  one  of  the  greatest  evils  that  can  betide  a 
man,  and  to  marry  beneath  him  damages  him  still  worse; 
but  do  it  he  did;  why,  I  couldn't  say,  nor  he  either.  Six 
months  after,  of  course,  he  was  sick  of  her;  six  years 
after,  naturally  he  met  somebody  else,  and  wanted  to 
break  his  chains.  Break  them  he  couldn't,  so  he  ran 
away  with  his  new  love,  and  her  brother  shot  him 
through  the  heart.  Poor  dear  Charlie  !  a  man  had  better 
take  to  drinking,  racing,  gambling,  rather  than  take  to  ro- 
mance. Lilian  had  nothing  to  live  on,  and  herself  and  her 
daughter  to  keep.     Served  her  right  for  entangling  poor 

12 


26G  BELLES  AND   BLACKCOCK. 

Charlie  !  So  she  took  a  tumble-down  palace  in  Rome,  and 
lot  rooms  to  English  visitors,  till  she  died  five  years  ago, 
when  an  old  Italian  Comtessa  took  a  fancy  to  the  child, 
and  brought  her  up  till  she  died  too,  and  Lilla  came  over 
to  Duncairn.  She's  very  like  poor  Charlie  in  look,  and 
manners,  and  mind.  The  Cardonnels,  of  course,  never 
notice  her.  I  have  got  Florence  to  ask  her  here  occa- 
sionally for  her  father's  sake;  but  it's  difficult  to  take  up 
one's  friend's  child,  who  is  one's  tenant's  niece,  too,  and 
I  don't  think  my  lady  likes  her." 

"  I  dare  say  not,"  said  Dyneley,  sotto  voce.  "  "Well, 
she's  a  nice  little  thing.  I  wish  her  a  better  fate  than  her 
mother's." 

"Yes,  she  is  certainly  chic,"  said  Fitzcorrie,  "notwith- 
standing the  plebeian  blood  of  the  distaff  side.  I  should 
be  sorry  you'd  seen  her  if  I  didn't  know  you  were  too  old 
a  hand  to  commit  yourself  a  la  pauvre  Charlie." 

"  I  should  say  so.  Romance  has  been  beaten  out  of 
me  long  ago;  and  a  good  thing  too,  for  I  couldn't  afford 
such  an  expensive  luxury." 

Soon  after  we  went  into  the  drawing-room  Lilian 
came  on  the  tapis  again.  Lady  Fitzcorrie  and  Adeliza 
Vandeleur  raised  their  eyebrows,  and  smiled  the  smile 
with  which  women  sneer  down  an  enemy  of  their  own 
sex. 

"  "What,  are  you  talking  of  the  farmer's  little  niece  ? 
Do  you  admire  her  ?  Really !  She  was  here  at  the  ten- 
ants'ball  last  Christmas;  I  remember  noticing  her.  She 
is  not  so  gauche  as  one  might  expect,  is  she  ?" 

"Gauche!"  repeated  Dyneley,  with  a  peculiar  smile. 
"I  think  I  never  saw  manners  more  graceful." 

A  Jeliza's  haughty  under-lip  protruded.  "Indeed!  I 
had  fancied  I  had  once  heard  you  were  fastidious,  Lo.lyI 
Dyneley." 


BELLES  AND  BLACKCOCK.  2G7 

"  So  I  am,"  said  Graham  sipping  his  coffee.  "  I  should 
say  no  man  more  so." 

"  Do  you  mean  that  girl  with  golden  hair,  that  Lord 
Fitzcorrie  called  Lilla  when  she  came  here  last  Christ- 
mas?" interrupted  Constance.  "I  thought  her  lovely; 
she  played  so  brilliantly,  too." 

Dyneley  leant  down  over  her  chair.  "  Lady  Constance, 
you  show  me  a  miracle :  one  Helen  has  the  generosity  to 
toss  the  golden  apple  to  another." 

"You  bitter  satirist!  Why  should  not  women  praise 
each  other  ?" 

"I  don't  know  why  they  shouldn't,  but  I  know  they 
never  do.  At  least,  never  without  some  quahfying  rider," 
laughed  Dyneley.  "  Will  you  give  us  some  music  ? 
Sing  me  my  favorite,  '  Io  son  ricco.'  Willoughby  there 
will  be  charmed  to  accompany  you." 

"  No,  pray  don't  trouble  him.  I  beg  you  won't,"  said 
Constance,  hastily;  but  Dyneley  had  already  crossed 
over  to  where  Claude  stood  leaning  against  a  console, 
talking  to  nobody,  with  a  look  of  dignified  ennui,  as  if 
he  was  longing  for  a  "  new  sensation,"  and  couldn't  for 
his  life  find  one,  and,  taking  him  by  the  shoulder, 
brought  him  up  to  Constance,  very  much  against  his  will, 
I  fancied. 

"  I  am  very  sorry  Lord  Dyneley  disturbed  your  dolce," 
she  said,  not  looking  at  him,  and  playing  listlessly  with 
her  fan.  "  I  suppose,  Captain  Willoughby,  when  there 
is  no  sunshine  in  society  brilliant  enough  to  attract  you, 
you  retire,  like  the  moles,  into  a  state  of  quiescence; 
they  call  it  sleep,  you  call  it  ennui,  but  it  appears  to  me 
much  the  same  thing." 

"  But  the  moles  are  better  off,"  said  Claude,  in  his 
most  languid  voice.  "  You  know  they  have  holes  to  go 
into,  and  we  haven't;  we're  constantly  being  bored  by 


2G8  BELLES  AND  BLACKCOCK. 

being  woke  up    and  asked  to  do  something   fatiguing. 
But  if  you  want  me  to  sing,  I  don't  mind." 

The  tone.,  lazy  as  that  in  which  was  uttered  the  mem- 
orable words  "  the  Tenth  don't  dance !"  the  air  tranquilly 
rude,  which  Lady  Fitzcorrie  justly  stigmatised  as  "  out- 
Brummeling-Brummel " — which  no  man  in  the  Service 
knew  better  how  to  assume,  when  he  chose,  than  did 
Claude — made  Constance's  eyes  flash,  and  her  color  flush 
deep. 

"  Wish  you  to  sing  !"  she  said,  carelessly.  "  "What 
could  make  you  dream  that  I  did?  I  wouldn't  inflict 
the  exertion  upon  you.  Pray  go  back  to  the  dolce ;  there 
is  a  remarkable  comfortable  chair  in  the  inner  drawing- 
room,  and  you  need  have  no  pangs  of  conscience,  for  when 
the  moles  abjure  society,  nobody  misses  them,  you  know." 
"Thank  you,"  said  Claude,  stroking  his  long  mous- 
tache. "You  were  very  kind  to  think  of  that  chair;  I'll 
go  to  it  at  once." 

Go  to  it  he  did;  and  he  sank  down  among  its  cushions, 
but  enjoy  the  dolce  he  didn't,  for  Lady  Fitzcorrie  was 
there,  who  has  no  objection  to  a  flirtation  with  a  hand- 
some cavalry  man;  and  they  flirted  away,  till  the  Yiscount, 
who  was  a  bit  of  a  George  Danclin  in  his  old  age,  would 
have  been  bitterly  wrathf  ul  if  he  hadn't  happily  been  deep 
in  whist  in  the  card-room,  where  Dyneley  soon  joined  him, 
while  Adeliza  looked  very  chagrined  at  his  desertion,  and 
her  sister  sang  duets  with  Curtis  and  with  me  as  if  she 
were  aspiring  to  the  role  of  prima  donna.  I  was  standing 
by  her  at  the  piano  when  Claude  came  up  to  bid  her 
good  night.  As  she  turned,  he  knocked  down  a  song;  he 
picked  it  up,  and  a  bitter  smile  came  on  his  face  as  he 
laid  it  on  the  piano.  Constance  turned  pale,  too,  as  he 
put  it  down,  and  said,  with  a  laugh,  "  That  used  to  be  a 
favorite  of  yours,  Lady  Constance,  but  newer  music  has 


BELLES  AND  BLACKCOCK.  269 

come  up  since,  and  we  are  not  so  cruel  as  to  expect  fidel- 
ity from  ladies." 

I  glanced  at  the  title  of  the  song :  it  was  "  Wert  thou 
but  mine  own,  love;"  and  on  it  was  written,  in  Claude's 
writing, 

"  L'amour  sait  renrlre  tout  possible, 
Au  cceur  qui  suit  ses  etendards. 
"  Somerleyton  Feb.  16«7i." 

I  thought  I  began  to   see   into  Master   Claude's  hand, 
carefully  as  he  held  his  cards. 


IV. 


THE  GOWAN  OF  THE  MOORS  GROWS  MORE  ATTRACTIVE  THAN 

THE  GAME. 

"  Where's  Dyneley  ?"  said  Curtis  one  afternoon,  some 
three  weeks  after,  when  he  and  I  were  out  after  ducks  at 
the  pools;  "gone  to  see  that  gold-haired  Highland  belle 
of  his  again,  I  suppose.  Poaching  on  one  manor  spoils 
shooting  on  another;  but  there  never  was  such  a  fellow 
for  'large  blue  eyes  and  fair  white  hands.'  " 

I  laughed.  "  I  dare  say  he's  up  there.  Shall  we  go 
and  see  ?    It's  getting  dusk." 

"Do,"  said  Curtis,  "I  want  to  see  her.  Eomer  and 
Ashington  have  found  her  out,  and  they  say  she's  pretty 
enough  to  make  Adeliza  strychnine  her.  Do  you  think 
that  will  be  a  match  between  Dy  and  the  Vandeleur  ? 
There's  plenty  of  tin  for  Dyneley." 

"Can't  say.  She's  willing,  no  doubt,  and  he's  no 
money  to  speak  of;  it  may  come  off,  though  I  doubt  if 


270  BELLES  AND   BLACKCOCK. 

Graham  will  ever  put  on  the  handcuffs  matrimonial. 
We're  not  very  far  off  Duncairn's  now.  Come  along,  and 
give  the  guns  to  Ronald." 

An  hour's  walk  brought  us  to  the  farm,  a  long,  low, 
rather  picturesque  house.     Elsie,  looking  upon  us  with 
much  suspicion,  showed  us  into  Lilla's  little  drawing- 
room,  where  we  found  Dyneley  sitting  in  the  broad  win- 
dow-seat, and  Lilla  by  him,  in  her  customary  low  chair, 
looking  up  in  his  face  while  he  talked  earnestly  to  her. 
For  the  first  time,  I  think  I  may  say  in  my  life,  he  looked 
anything  but  best  pleased  to  see  me.    He  was  expatiating 
on  one  of  his  favorite  topics,  the  great  fault  of  the  day, 
Intolerance — not   of   anything    warmer — but    with    her 
speaking  eyes  fixed  on  him,  and  her  quick  intelligence 
answering   him,   I   dare  say  he   was  wrathful   at  being 
interrupted.     She  looked  sorry,  too,  and  showed  it,  which 
he  didn't,  he  having  had  twenty  years'  icing  in  society, 
and  she  none.     She  received  us,  however,  in  her  graceful, 
lively  style,  and  Curtis  studied  her  with  more  admiration 
than  ever  I  saw  in  him  for  the  belles  of  the  "  Ride  and 
the  Ring."     Dyneley  leaned  back  against  the   window, 
and  didn't  vouchsafe  much  conversation,  save  when  Lilla 
appealed  to  him,  which  was  certainly  about  once  every 
three  minutes;  and  Curtis  did  his  best  to  amuse  her:  he's 
a  very  pleasant  fellow,  too,  when  he  likes.     It  was  quite 
a  levee  for  her;  and  I  dare  say  the  little  Queen  of  our 
Argyleshire  Balmoral  enjoyed  it. 

"  Won't  you  come  to  morrow  ?"  she  said  to  Dyneley, 
when  he  shook  hands  with  her;  looking  very  earnest 
about  her  request. 

He  smiled.     "  We'll  see." 

"Ah!  then  I  know  you  will;  and  when  will  you  do 
Lord  Dyneley's  picture  ?" 

"  He  hasn't  sat  to  me  yet,"  said  Graham,  "but  leer- 


BELLES  AND   BLACKCOCK.  271 

tainly  will  not  forget  it.  However,  you'll  be  disappointed 
in  him.  You  fancy  him  a  demigod,  and  you'll  find  him 
a  very  mortal  indeed." 

"I  do  not  care;  I  know  him  in  his  writings,"  said 
Lilla,  decidedly.  "I  never  judge  a  man  by  his  life,  but  by 
his  heart;  circumstances  may  make  the  one,  but  nature 
has  formed  the  other,  and  if  it  be  the  right  metal  it  will 
always  ring  true." 

We  laughed  involuntarily,  but  Dyneley  looked  grave; 
perhaps  he  was  thinking  his  had  not  always  rung  as  true 
as  it  might  have  done  to  his  boyish  dreams  of  hope  and 
energy,  ambition  and  success. 

"  Miss  Cardonnel,"  said  Curtis,  bidding  her  good-by, 
"  I  wish  very  earnestly  that  you  would  make  me  the 
same  request  you  did  Vavasour  there.  I'd  come  at  your 
call." 

"  "What  a  paladin  !"  laughed  Lilla.  "  It  is  quite  a  pity 
you  didn't  live  in  the  days  of  the  Round  Table,  and 
Elaine  and  Morgue  la  Faye." 

"  One  does  not  need  to  go  back  so  far  for  fairies,"  said 
Curtis,  with  an  eloquent  glance. 

Dyneley  made  an  impatient  movement.  He  never  com- 
pliments by  any  chance. 

"  But  really,"  Charley  went  on,  "  May  I,  too,  '  come 
to-morrow  ?'  " 

Lilla  looked  vexed,  and  hesitated.  "  If  you  wish,  cer- 
tainly, but  it  is  a  very  long  walk." 

"My  legs  are  as  good  as  Vavasour's,"  said  Curtis, 
laughing  to  hide  the  pique  he  felt;  but  if  you  honor  him 

with  the  monopoly " 

Dyneley    silenced    him    with    a    flash    of    his    dark 
eyes. 

Lilian  looked  haughty  and  dignified.  "  If  Mr.  Vava- 
sour," she  said  quickly,    "is  so  kind  as  to  walk  eight 


272  BELLES  AND   BLACKCOCK. 

miles  that  I  may  have  the  pleasure  of  talking  my  dear 
Italian  once  more,  I  am  not  so  vain  as  to  suppose  that  all 
his  friends  would  take  the  same  trouble." 

"  Nor  do  you  care  that  they  should,"  thought  I. 
"  Well,  Dy,  I  congratulate  you  on  your  game,"  said 
Curtis,  as  we  went  home ;  "  it's  better  than  the  blackcock, 
and  more  easily  knocked  over,  I  guess.     Take   care   I 
don't  poach  on  your  manor,  old  fellow." 

"  If  I  had,  to  adopt  your  elegant  parable,  marked  the 
game,  I  should  know  perfectly  well  how  to  secure  it,"  said 
my  lord,  with  a  contemptuous  twist  of  his  moustaches. 
"But  I  consider  Miss  Cardonnel  a  lady,  if  you  don't,  and 
I  do  not  speak  of  her  as  of  a  grisette  of  the  Quartier 
Latin." 

"Lady?  So  she  is  in  manner,  but  a  yeoman's  niece! 
The  devil !  if  one  mayn't  have  a  little  fun  with  her,  with 
whom  on  earth  may  one  ?" 

"  Try  it,  Charley,"  said  Dyneley,  dryly. 
"  Well,  why  not  ?    By  George !  this  is  the  first  time  I 
ever  knew  you  so  scrupulous." 

"  Possibly.  You  are  young  yet,  and  boys  do  not  know 
that  there  are  '  femmes  et  femmes.'  When  you  have 
lived  as  long  as  I,  you  will  know  that  a  young  girl,  too 
frank  and  guileless  to  be  a  prude,  too  warm-hearted  to  be 
a  coquette,  is  not  to  be  confounded  with  the  Aspasias  and 
Phrynes  of  our  experience." 

"I  say,  Gra,"  said  I,  as  Curtis  went  on  in  front,  "I 
thought  you  were  going  to  be  merciful  and  spare  the 
gowan.      Making  love    to  her    and  marrying  Adeliza 

won't " 

"  Pooh !  I  never  make  love  to  her,"  said  he,  shortly. 
"She  is  clever,  and  amuses  me  to  talk  to;  but  anything 
beyond  that  would  answer  neither  of  us,  for  I  certainly 
can't  marry  her,  and  I'd  never  abuse  Duncaim's  hospital- 


BELLES  AND   BLACKCOCK.  273 

ity.     I  tell  you  she's  a  fair  flower,  and  I'll  leave  her  un- 
touched." 

"  Then  I  wouldn't  advise  you  to  go  after  her  quite  so 
much." 

"Keep  your  counsel  till  you're  asked  for  it,  Monti. 
Poor  child !  she's  no  idea  of  love  in  her  head  for  me  yet, 
and  I  shall  not  teach  her." 

I  laughed  outright.  "  My  dear  fellow !  I  never  thought 
I  should  like  to  hear  a  man  of  the  world  like  you  talk 
such  bosh.     The  poor  gowan,  I  pity  her !  she's  dooomed!" 

Dyneley  blazed  away  at  a  hare  that  crossed  the  path, 
and,  I  suppose,  didn't  hear  my  remark. 

Next  morning  he  left  the  blackcock  after  luncheon, 
and  spent  his  afternoon  in  the  wide  window-seat  in 
Lilla's  drawing-room,  talking  Italian  and  reading  Leo- 
pardi.  And  many  afternoons  went  in  the  same  manner, 
till  Fitzcorrie  and  all  of  us  laughed  about  the  game  Dy- 
neley had  found  on  the  moors.  Curtis,  Homer,  Ashing- 
ton,  and  I  often  found  occasion  to  shoot  up  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  farm,  and  would  drop  in  for  some  of  Dun- 
cairn's  Prestonpans,  to  which  the  hospitable  Highlander 
told  us  we  were  always  heartily  welcome.  I  fancy  they  all 
thought  that  Chaumiere  love  and  coulisses  flattery  would 
do  very  well  for  a  farmer's  niece,  but  they  soon  found 
that  little  Lilla,  frank  and  gay  as  she  was,  required  as 
refined  a  style  as  even  Lady  Constance,  and  consoled 
themselves  for  their  disappointment  by  jests  at  her  and 
Dyneley. 

"  I  wish  those  confounded  fellows  wouldn't  keep  hang- 
ing about  here,"  said  he,  savagely,  one  day.  "  There  are 
women  enough  at  the  Castle,  if  they  want  them." 

"  Hallo !  are  we  jealous  ?" 

"  Jealous !"    repeated    he,    with    scorn.     "  Of    what, 
pray?" 

12* 


274  BELLES  AND  BLACKCOCK. 

"Well,  if  you  repudiate  the  sentiment,  what  do  you 
care  if  fifty  men  come  round  her  ?" 

"  Because  I  don't  want  her  spoiled.  She  has  no  art,  or 
concealment,  or  manoeuvres  now,  and  it  is  a  pity  she 
should  be  taught  them." 

"  I  don't  see  why  Eomer,  or  Ashington,  or  Curtis  is 
more  likely  to  teach  her  them  than  yourself;  and  if  you 
won't  have  her  either  at  Cupid's  or  Hymen's  hands,  and 
will  bid  her  good-by  in  a  few  weeks'  time,  and  will  find 
her,  if  ever  you  come  here  again,  the  wile  of  some  rich, 
thriving,  hard-featured  yeoman,  it  can't  matter  much 
whether  or  no  she  is  spoilt  a  little." 

Dyneley  held  his  head  in  the  air,  playing  impatiently 
with  his  whiskers.  "Lilla  marry  a  clod  of  the  valley  J 
Poor  little  thing,  she'd  better  die  first." 

"  Why  do  you  never  come  up  to  the  Castle  ?"  I  asked 
her,  a  few  days  after. 

"  Can't  you  guess  ?  You  can  ?"  she  said,  turning  to 
Dyneley,  who  bent  his  head  in  accpriescence.  To  begin 
with,  I  am  very  rarely  asked;  secondly,  I  know  Lady 
Fitzcorrie  dislikes  to  see  me  there;  and  thirdly,  and 
chiefly,  I  am  too  proud  to  be  treated  as  they  treat  me. 
I  will  go  nowhere  on  sufferance,  to  be  subjected  to  a  con- 
descension which  is  insult,  to  be  scarcely  spoken  to,  or> 
if  addressed,  addressed  with  that  supercilious  smile, 
which  says  as  plainly  as  any  words,  'Petite,  how  come 
you  near  us  ?  go  back  to  your  proper  sphere.  My  father 
was  a  gentleman,  and  I  will  never  go  anywhere  where  I 
am  not  received  as  a  lady." 

"  Quite  right,"  said  Dyneley,  looking  admiringly  at  her 
animated  eyes  and  gestures.  "If  they  cannot  appreciate 
you,  do  not  honor  them." 

Lilla  colored  with  pleasure.  Poor  child!  it  was  his 
first  praise.     I  dare  say  he  thought  it  was  quite  right  for 


BELLES   AND   BLACKCOCK.  *     275 

her  not  to  go  to  the  Castle,  since  it  kept  his  star  in  ob- 
scurity, to  shine  only  for  himself.  Othello's  form  of 
selfishness  is  an  exceedingly  natural  and  common  one. 

Nevertheless,  he  took  Lady  Fitzcorrie  to  task  for  not 
inviting  her.  She  only  answered  him  with  a  smile  and  a 
sneer*,  being  afraid  of  his  witty  tongue;  but  I  heard  her 
say  to  Adeliza,  "  What  do  you  think  ?  Dyneley  actually 
dared  to  ask  me  to  invite  that  young  person,  as  if  we 
were  to  countenance  and  receive  his  Scotch  grisettes!" 

(N.  B. — My  lady  had  tried  to  hook  Dy,  and  failing,  out 
of  pique  had  taken  up  with  poor  Fitzcorrie.) 

Meanwhile,  Claude  and  Constance  either  hated  or 
loved  each  other  very  warmly.  They  were  as  distant  as 
they  could  be  not  to  be  remarked,  and  he  seemed,  be- 
fore her,  to  affect  all  the  languor,  indifference,  and  nil 
admirari-ism.  that  he  could. 

"  What  is  it  between  you  two  ?"  said  I  one  night,  when 
we  came  back  from  the  Castle  (he  said  he  was  not  well 
enough  to  go,)  and  found  him  sitting  by  the  fire,  looking 
a  most  gloomy  contrast  to  the  dashing,  flirting,  light- 
hearted  Dragoon  I  had  always  known  him.  "  Come,  tell 
me,  old  boy,  what's  Constance  done  to  you  ?" 

He  looked  very  fierce  at  me. 

"You've  found  it  out,  have  you?  I  hoped  I'd  con- 
cealed my  folly  too  well  for  fools  to  have  it  to  mock  at." 

"Fools!  Bien  oblige.  My  dear  fellow,  what's  the 
matter  ?  what's  it  ah  about  ?     You  know 

L'amour  sait  rendre  tout  possible, 
Au  coeur  qui  suit  ses  etendards." 

Claude,  the  sweetest  temper  possible,  glared  at  me  as 
if  I  were  going  positively  to  take  his  life. 

"  Did  she  tell  you  that  ?  Did  she  make  a  jest  of  it  to 
vou?" 


276     *  BELLES  AND  BLACKCOCK. 

"  "What  are  you  talking  about,  Claude  ?  Who's  '  she  ?' 
I  merely  read  Moliere's  lines  on  a  song  the  other  night 
in  your  handwriting." 

"I  wrote  that  when  I  was  mad,"  said  Claude  between 
his  teeth,  poking  the  fire  recklessly.  "You  know  I 
stayed  in  the  same  house  with  that  girl  down  at  Somer- 
leyton  for  six  weeks.  I  admixed  her,  and  God  knows 
whether  she  meant  it  or  not,  but  she  waltzed,  and  sung, 
and  rode  almost  solely  with  me,  and  I  thought  preferred 
me  to  the  other  men.  She  never  discouraged  me.  The 
night  I  wrote  those  very  words  on  the  song,  she  smiled 
and  looked  up  in  my  face  as  only  the  most  fond  or  the 
most  artful  woman  can.  I  said  nothing  decisive  to  her, 
for  I  knew  she  was  a  great  heiress  and  I  had  nothing, 
and  my  pride  revolted  from  owing  my  money  to  my  wife, 
or  seeming  mercenary  in  her  eyes.  So  we  parted.  I 
went  to  join  Ours  at  Aldershot,  knowing  we  should  meet 
in  the  season.  I  did  meet  her ! — how  do  you  think  ?  I 
was  leaning  on  the  rails  looking  out  for  her;  she  passed 
me  on  her  hack,  riding  with  that  idiot  Cromarty,  who's 
dangling  after  her  now.  She  gave  a  bow  without  a  smile 
— after  the  hours  we  had  spent  together! — and  can- 
tered on." 

His  voice  shook,  and  he  leaned  his  head  on  his  arms 
on  the  mantel-piece.  I  was  going  to  speak,  but  he 
stopped  me. 

"  Hush !  it's  idle  talking.  I  was  mad  to  suj>pose  she 
would  fling  herself  away  on  a  poor  cavalry  man.  You 
know  my  secret — keep  it.  I  must  get  over  it  somehow, 
and  end  my  days  as  soon  as  I  can  in  some  skirm- 
ish." 

With  a  dreary  laugh,  he  bid  me  good  night,  and,  tak- 
ing my  pipe,  I  mourned  over  the  loss  of  one  of  the  best 
fellows  in  the  Service,  caught  and  bound  in  those  tight 


BELLES  AND   BLACKCOCK.  277 

rose-cliains  from  which  the  blind  god  so  seldom  remem- 
bers to  take  out  the  thorns. 

"  Monti,"  said  Dyneley,  coming  in  out  of  the  hall,  "  I 
wish  you'd  give  me  back  that  daguerreotype  Claudet  took 
of  me  when  you  were  romantic  enough  to  wish  to  have 
one  when  I  was  going  into  Arabia  Deserta,  and  you 
fancied  I  might  never  come  back.     Will  you  ?" 

"Well,  it  isn't  over-generous  of  you,  but  I'll  send  to 
town  for  it  if  you  wish." 

"  That's  a  good  fellow.  I  want  it  for  little  Lilla,  and 
I'll  have  another  done  for  you." 

"  So  you're  going  to  make  the  child  waste  her  years 
crying  over  your  daguerreotype  ?  That's  being  '  merci- 
ful,' is  it?" 

"I  promised  her,"  he  said,  shortly,  "and  she  shall 
have  it." 

"  Very  well,  Gra,"  said  I.  "  Don't  take  my  head  quite 
off.  You've  taken  care  to  photograph  yourself  in  her 
memory  pretty  indelibly,  so  she  may  as  well  have  the 
picture." 

The  picture  came  down.  Dy's  clear-cut  features,  his 
black  hair  and  whiskers,  and  eyes,  came  out  strong  in 
the  photograph;  he  might  pardonably  feel  vain  when  he 
looked  at  it,  but  he  put  it  in  his  pocket  immediately  it 
appeared,  and  set  off  to  Duncairn's.  Lilla  was  looking 
for  him,  and  let  him  in,  kissed  Mousquetaire  most 
warmly,  and  smiled  upon  Mousquetaire's  master.  With- 
out speaking,  he  held  out  the  picture.  She  looked  at 
the  case  in  dismay. 

"  What !  Lord  Dyneley  at  last  ?     How  kind  you  are  ! 
But  this  is  Claudet's  name,  it  is  not  your  painting  ?" 

"  Open  it,"  said   Dy,  smiling. 

She  did  as  he  told  her;  gave  the  picture  one  glance, 
and  turned  round  to  him,  her  face  Hushed  and  agitated. 


278  BELLES  AND   BLACKCOCK. 

"  It  is  you  ! — you  !  And  may  I  have  it  ?  May  I  keep 
it  ?  Ob !  why  did  you  never  tell  me !  To  think  that  it 
is  your  thoughts  I  have  so  long  read  in  your  books  I 
You,  whom  I  have " 

"  Lilla  !  Good  Heavens  !  what  is  the  matter  ?"  said 
Dyneley,  seeing,  to  his  consternation,  that  she  trembled 
excessively,  and  tears  stood  in  her  eyes. 

"I  don't  know,"  said  the  girl;  "only — you  seem  so 
much  farther  off  me.  I  feel  as  if  some  one  had  taken 
you  away." 

Dyneley  was  more  touched  than  he  knew  was  prudent, 
and  thought  he  had  better  end  the  scene. 

"You  feel  too  deeply,  Lilla,"  he  said  hastily.  "You 
will  never  be  happy.  I  cannot  stay  now,  for  Montague 
is  waiting  for  me  at  the  falls.  Keep  the  daguerreotype 
if — if  it  interests  you ;  and,  though  I  bear  another  name 
than  you  fancied,  never  think  of  me  as  other  than — your 
friend." 

"  Monti,"  said  he  that  night,  "  I  shall  leave  this  in  a 
day  or  two.  It's  the  middle  of  November,  and  I  shall  go 
down  and  look  at  Vauxley." 

"By  Jove!"  said  I,  "a  new  move.  I  thoiight  you'd 
have  spent  Christmas  at  the  Castle." 

"  My  dear  fellow,  I've  stayed  four  months  in  the  same 
place.  That's  an  unprecedented  halt  for  me.  Of  course 
you  can  all  stop,  if  you  like." 

"  Not  I,"  said  Claude.     "  My  leave's  up  on  the  25th. 

"  Confound  Cupid,"  thought  I,  "  for  breaking  up  a  nice 
set  of  braves  garcons  just  as  they  are  comfortable." 

Two  days  after  Dyneley  Lighted  a  cheroot,  put  on  his 
waterproof,  drew  his  cap  over  his  eyes,  and  started  off — 
you  can  guess  where  as  easily  as  I  did.  As  he  opened 
the  gate  to  the  garden,  Curtis  came  out  of  it.  Graham 
looked  fierce  at  him,  for  the  young  fellow   had  grown 


BELLES  AND  BLACKCOCK.  279 

very  spoony  about  Lilla,  and,  despite  his  opinions  at 
starting,  was  just  as  likely,  being  a  young  hand,  to  have 
committed  himself,  as  Cardonnel  had  done  before  him. 
Curtis  looked  gloomy,  and  brushed  quickly  past  him, 
and  Dyneley  drew  his  own  conclusions. 

"I  met  Curtis,"  he  said  to  Lilla,  when  he  had  been 
there  about  ten  minutes,  and  their  talk  had  not  flowed 
quite  so  fluently  as  usual.  "Has  he  been  with  you? 
Yes  ?     Then  what  has  he  said  to  vex  you  ?" 

"To  vex  me?     Nothing." 

"Yes  he  has,  and  to  vex  himself,  too.  I  can  guess 
what,"  said  Dyneley,  impatiently;  "and  you  refused 
him  ?" 

"  Of  course !"  said  Lilla,  in  surprise. 

"You  were  not  wise,"  said  Graham,  speaking  hard 
through  his  teeth.  "  He  is  a  boy,  to  be  sure,  but  he  is 
worth  ten  thousand  a  year.  He  has  a  very  good  posi- 
tion. Many  women  would  sell  their  souls  to  be  mistress 
of  his  wide  acres;  yet  you  refuse  him  without  a  thought." 

"Hush!  hush!"  cried  Lilla,  vehemently.  "You  know 
well  enough  that  I  would  reject  him,  and  twenty  such  as 
he.     You  are  cruel — unjust — ungenerous!" 

"  Nay,  I  spoke  only  for  your  good,"  said  he,  in  a  cold, 
forced  tone.     "Forgive  me  if  I  offended  you." 

"Offended  me?     You!" 

He  took  her  outstretched  hands,  and  pressed  them 
fiercely;  then  dropped  them,  and  traced  the  carpet  pat- 
tern gloomily  with  his  stick.  There  was  a  dead  silence. 
He  tried  to  talk  of  a  few  trivialities,  but  could  not  get  on 
well  with  them;  in  desperation  rose,  and  said,  without 
looking  at  her, 

"  I  came  to  bid   you   good-by.  '  I   leave   to-morrow." 

She  caught  hold  of  his  arm,  and  looked  up  in  his  face 
with  the  look  of  a  stricken  stag. 


2S0  BELLES  AND   BLACKCOCK. 

"  You  are  not  going  away  ? — not  for  long  ?  You  will 
come  back  soon  ?— I  shall  see  you  again  ?" 

Dyneley  did  not  look  at  her  face,  or,  even  with  his  iron 
will,  he  Avould  have  found  it  difficult  to  answer  as  he  did. 

"  I  cannot  say.  I  shall  leave  England — possibly  for 
years." 

Lilla  uttered  a  cry  like  a  hunted  hare's;  she  would 
have  fallen  to  the  ground  but  for  Dy's  arm.  He  never 
wanted  his  serf-control  more,  and  he  knew  he  dared  not 
try  it  long.  Before  she  coidd  speak  a  word  to  him,  or  a 
look  of  her  eyes  shake  him,  he  pressed  her  against  his 
heart,  kissed  her  passionately,  and,  whispering  in  her  ear 
"  Forget  me  and  forgive  me,  if  you  can,"  rushed  out  of 
the  house,  and  through  the  garden,  like  a  madman. 

We  saw  nothing  of  him  that  day.  "When  he  came 
home  he  said  he  was  tired,  and  went  straight  up  to  his 
room.  The  next  day  he  made  his  adieus  at  the  Castle, 
foiling  all  Lady  Adeliza's  hopes,  and,  in  a  pelting  storm, 
bade  us  good-by,  and  steamed  away  down  Loch  Fine. 
The  next  thing  I  heard  of  him  were  a  few  lines  to  say 
that  he  was  starting  in  the  Aphrodite,  and  had  not  deter- 
mined the  route.  Poor  old  fellow !  his  pride  woidd  not 
let  him  marry  the  girl;  his  feeling  of  honor  prevented 
him  returning  Duncairn's  hospitality  by  running  away 
with  his  niece.  He  thought  that  in  conquering  himself, 
and  leaving  her,  he  was  doing  what  was  kindest  and  best 
for  her.  I  doubt  if  to  poor  little  Lilla  the  kindness  was 
cpiite  so  apparent. 


V. 

THE   LIGHT    OX    THE   MOOES   SHINES   AGAIN   FOB   DYNELEY. 

Claude  was  not,  meanwhile,  much  better  off.     He,  the 
dashing  Dragoon,  who  had  lost  his  heart  and  found  it 


BELLES  AND   BLACKCOCK.  281 

again  a  thousand  times  in  water  parties  and  archery  fetes 
in  Woolwich  luncheons,  Chatham  balls,  Exeter  deux  temps 
and  Portsmouth  galops,  had  fallen  headlong  in  love  dur- 
ing the  long  days  and  evenings  at  Somerleyton;  and 
Constance's  manner,  sometimes  distant  or  sarcastic  to 
him,  sometimes,  when  she  thought  he  did  not  see  her, 
silent  and  subdued;  the  constant  sight  of  her  beauty, 
and  the  attention  the  other  men  paid  her,  were  not  alto- 
gether calculated  to  cure  him.  I  thought  he  might  have 
been  happier  if  he  had  sought  an  explanation;  but  noth- 
ing would  induce  him;  he  was  too  proud  to  risk  a  re- 
pulse. I  thought  I  might  as  well  act  his  Deus  ex 
machina. 

"  I  think  you're  very  mistaken  in  not  giving  Constance 
some  chance  of  an  explanation,"  said  I  to  him,  as  we 
went  up  to  the  castle  the  evening  before  he  left.  "  If 
the  girl  does  like  you,  and  there  has  been  any  misconcep- 
tion, so  haughty  and  all  but  rude  as  you  are  to  her,  she 
must  think  you  don't  care  any  more  for  her  than  you  do 
for  this  mare." 

"  She  knows  better  than  that,"  said  Claude,  biting  the 
end  off  his  cigar  fiercely.  •  "  How  can  I  speak?  If  I  were 
a  rich  man  I  would  let  my  pride  go  hang,  and  speak 
to  her  at  once;  but  what  would  she  and  everybody 
think? — that  I  was  hunting  her  for  her  money,  and  pre- 
tending love,  that  I  might  build  up  the  broken  fortunes 
of  my  family  with  the  wealth  she  would  bring  me.  Were 
she  penniless  and  I  a  Duke,  I  would  risk  her  rejection 
to-morrow;  as  it  is " 

He  stopped,  and  blew  a  cloud  of  smoke  into  the  frosty 
air. 

"  Oh  the  contradictions  of  human  nature!"  thought  I. 
"  Dyneley  and  his  love  are  in  the  very  relative  position 
that    Claude    thinks    would    make    it    all    square     for 


282  BELLES  AND  BLACKCOCK. 

him;  and  yet  they  are  not  one  whit  better  off  than  these 
two." 

At  dinner,  Claude  had  the  length  of  the  table  between 
him  and  Constance,  so  there  did  not  seem  much  prospect 
of  his  following  my  advice.  I,  however,  took  her  in  and 
turned  the  conversrtion  upon  him. 

"  So  Lord  Dyneley  is  gone,"  she  said  to  me.  "  AVhsIt 
an  agreeable  man !     He  is  so  amusing  when  he  likes." 

"  I'm  glad  you  like  him.  There  isn't  a  better  fellow 
upon  earth,"  I  answered.  "  Yes,  our  party  is  breaking 
up  You  leave  next  week,  do  you  not?  I  must  be  down 
at  my  father's  for  Christmas,  and  Claude  yonder  joins  the 
14th  at  Dublin  to-morrow." 

Her  hand  shook  as  she  set  down  her  wine-glass.  She 
evaded  a  reply.  "  Where  is  your  place  ?  Fawnham,  isn't 
it  called?" 

"Yes,  it's  in  Hants.  I  often  hunt  with  Assheton 
Smith's  hounds;  and  I  have  often  heard  how  you  have 
followed  a  fox  in  the  next  county,  Lady  Constance.  I 
wanted  \Villoughby  to  spend  Christmas  with  me,  but  his 
leave  is  up.  You  knew  him  before,  did  you  not  ?  Don't 
you  think  him  much  altered  in  eight  months  ?" 

She  hesitated.     "  He  seems  as  indolent  as  ever." 

"Pardon  me,"  I  said.  "I  don't  mean  that,  but  his 
spirits  are  so  gone  down.  He  was  one  of  the  lightest- 
hearted,  sunniest-tempered  men  possible,  for  all  his  pre- 
tended laziness;  but  now,  I  only  hope  he  may't  go  off 
into  consumption,  as  his  father  did  before  him." 

For  all  her  high  breeding,  the  young  lady  was  as  white 
as  her  lace  dress.  Now  I  lowered  my  voice  confiden- 
tially, likd  a  school-girl  telling  another  of  a  Valen- 
tine: 

"  Can  you  tell  me,  Lady  Constance — excuse  my  asking 
you,  but  I've  known  Claude  so  long,  and  esteem  him  so 


BELLES   AND   BLACKCOCK.  283 

highly — but  do  you  know  whether  there  was  any  one  at 
Sonierleyton  who  didn't  treat  hirn  well,  or  of  whom  he 
seemed  at  all  epris  ?  for  ever  since  that  luckless  visit  he 
hasn't  been  the  same  fellow." 

Her  color  varied — the  bracelets  on  her  arm  trembled. 
Just  then  Lady  Fitzcorrie  gave  the  move  :  she  rose  has- 
tily, dropping  her  handkerchief  in  her  agitation.  As  I 
gave  it  to  her  she  smiled  and  blushed  (I  wished  Claude 
had  seen  that   smile  and  that  blush),  and  said,  quick- 

"He  is  to  be  married  to  Miss  Melbourne,  is  he 
not?" 

"He?  No;  who  can  have  told  you  so?  What,  to 
Miss  Melbourne,  that  fat  Australian  heiress !  My  dear 
Lady  Constance,  he'd  as  soon  marry  a  Red  Indian;  he  is 
only  too  fastidious  about  poor  ruilitaires  aspiring  to  any 
one  with  riches." 

Her  eyes  danced,  and  she  gave  a  quick  sigh  of  relief ; 
her  glance  dwelt  on  Claude  a  moment  as  she  passed  out 
of  the  room;  he  did  not  deserve  the  glance,  for  he  had 
been  flirting  shamefully  with  Lady  Fitzcorrie,  but  he 
caught  it  and  his  eyes  flashed  out  of  their  tired  lan- 
guor. 

"  If  you  don't  win  the  game  it  will  be  your  own  fault," 
I  whispered  to  him  as  we  went  into  the  drawing-room. 
Constance  was  not  there;  the  Viscountess  challenged  him 
to  chess;  Claude  let  her  checkmate  him  in  no  time;  and 
when  it  was  over,  regardless  of  my  lady's  annoyance,  he 
lounged  into  the  music-room.  Adeliza  and  another  lady, 
with  Homer  and  Ashington,  were  singing  glees.  Con- 
stance was  standing  by  the  piano  turning  over  some 
music,  without  thinking  of  what  she  was  doing. 

Claude  went  up  and  looked  over  her:  her  hand  lay  on 


284:  BELLES   AJSJD   BLACKCOCK. 

the  memorable  song.     He  took  out  his  pencil  and  wrote 
underneath  his  former  lines  two  others: 

"  Appreuez-moi  ma  destinee: 
Faut-il  vivre  ?  faut-il  mourir?" 

She  looked  up  at  him — that  was  enough  for  them  both 
The  glees  went  on  a  little  longer,  then  we  went  back  to 
the  drawing-room.  They  lingered  behind  us,  putting  up 
the  music.  I  glanced  round  as  I  left  the  room;  her  head 
was  resting  on  his  shoulder,  and  his  moustache  touched 
her  hair,  so  I  suppose  they  had  managed  their  explana- 
tions in  a  satisfactory  style. 

"  Well,"  said  I,  as  we  drove  back  to  the  lodge,  "  I  ex- 
pect to  be  groomsman,  mon  gargon,  for  certainly  I've  made 
your  marriage  for  you.     Is  it  all  right,  pray,  at  last  ?" 

"Thank  God,  yes;  and  you're  a  brick, Monti,"  said  the 
gallant  Captain,  fervently.  "  You  put  it  all  square  capi- 
tally, and  I'm  eternally  obliged  to  you.  Poor  darling ! 
she  says  she  was  just  as  miserable  as  ever  I  was  when  I 
left  her  at  Somerleyton  without  a  word.  The  idea  of  her 
money  making  me  hesitate  had  never  entered  her  head; 
and  I  can't  make  her  see  that  it  causes  the  slightest  bar- 
rier. When  I  went  away,  that  confounded  Adeliza — I 
always  did  detest  that  woman — told  her  I  was  engaged  to 
Emily  Melbourne  (you  know  that  dreadful  girl  with  large 
feet  and  unheard-of  tin,  who  dresses,  too,  in  such  awful 
taste?)  and  when  they  were  a  month  m  Lowndes  Square 
I  never  went  near  them — you  know  I  coiildn't,  I  was  tied 
down  at  Aldershot — she  began  to  think  I'd  only  flirted 
with  her,  and  in  a  momentary  pique,  that  she's  regretted 
ever  since,  she  bowed  coldly  to  me  in  the  King." 

"  That's  the  tale,  is  it?"  A  very  good  lesson  to  people 
not  to  ride  off  on  an  idea  without  seeking  an  explanation. 
She's  just  of  age,  isn't  she  ?"  I  asked,  having  the  practical 


BELLES  AND  BLACKCOCK.  285 

side  of  the  tiling  in  view,  and  not  being  in  love  myself. 

"  So  all  the  money  mast  come  to  you  ?" 

"  The   money,   yes,"   said   Claude,  in   disgust.     "  Her 

mother's  her  only  relative  living,  and  she'd  let  her  do 

anything  she  liked.     I  wish  the  money  were  at  the  devil 

myself." 

"  You'd  soon  ask  Satan  for  it  back  again." 

"But  the  tin  never  crosses  her  mind,"  Claude   went 

on,  disdaining  my  interruption.     "  She  said  so  prettily  to 

me,  '  Never  let  us  speak  of  it.     "What  is  mine  is  yours. 

I  know  you  would  give  me  anything,  and  I  would  take 

anything  from  you.     Surely  you  love  me  sufficiently  to  do 

the  same  by  me.'  " 

I  saw  he  wasn't  likely  to  talk  anything  sensible  that 
night,  so  I  left  him  to  his  delicious  thoughts,  and  was 
only  profoundly  thankful  that  he  did  not  turn  the  dog- 
cart over  with  his  headlong  driving  of  the  poor  mare. 
Claude  had  to  go  to  Dublin  the  next  day,  to  his  own 
intense  disgust.  He  always  used  to  bemoan  early  parade, 
and  yet  enjoyed  a  rough  campaign.  But  Constance  wrote 
to  her  mamma,  begging  her  to  accept  an  invitation  they 
had  had  from  the  Viceroy,  to  which  her  mamma,  being 
wildly  idolatrous  of  her,  and  exceedingly  curious  to  see 
Claude,  immediately  accepted.  When  she  did  see  him,  she 
fell  decidedly  in  love  with  him  herself,  and  being  of  good 
birth,  though  allied  to  Brummagem  aristocracy,  was  better 
pleased  with  his  gentle  blood  than  she  would  have  been 
with  a  long  rent-roll.  I  went  over  to  his  marriage,  which 
was  on  New  Yeai*'s-day,  and  for  the  first  time  in  his  life 
he  got  up  early  without  thinking  it  a  hardship.  We  all 
told  him  he  was  the  luckiest  dog  in  the  Service,  to  have 
won  his  love  and  twenty  thousand  a  year  by  the  same 
coup,  and  really  on  his  wedding-day  he  was  too  happy  to 
be  indolent;  he  only  swore  at  the  breakfast  as  a  horrid 


286  BELLES    AND   BLACKCOCK. 

bore  and  a  most  cruel  probation.  Dyneley,  dear  old 
fellow,  who  onglit  to  have  been  there  to  season  the  affair 
with  his  sparkling  sarcasms,  was  away  yachting,  Heaven 
alone  knew  where.  An  nncle  of  his  had  died,  leaving 
him  considerable  property,  but  his  lawyers  could  not  tell 
where  to  address  him.  He  was  six  months  away.  I  be- 
gan to  get  uneasy  about  it,  for  I  thought  he  might  be 
gone  shooting  to  Norway,  and  would  be  very  likely  to  go 
on  exploring  northward  till  he  went  a  trifle  too  far  into 
the  ice-plains.  At  last,  one  night  late,  when  I  was  sitting 
smoking  in  the  Albany,  to  my  delight  in  stalked  Dyneley 
looking  very  ill  and  worn,  restless  and  impatient  in  his 
manner — quite  unlike  himself. 

"  Where  have  I  been  ?"  he  said.  "  To  Barbadoes.  I  set 
myself  so  many  miles  to  do,  and,  for  fear  I  shoidd  break 
my  resolution,  I  took  out  little  Dalinaine,  who  wanted  to 
join  his  troop." 

"And  have  you  heard  your  good  news  ?" 

He  looked  up  quickly. 

"Good  news  for  me?  That  would  be  a  miracle  in- 
deed." 

"  The  miracle  has  happened,  then.  Old  Chesney  has 
kicked  off,  and  made  you  his  heir." 

"  Are  you  certain?"  he  cried,  vehemently. 

"  To  be  sure.     It  would  be  nothing  extraordinary." 

He  stood  silent,  leaning  his  head  on  the  mantlepiece. 
At  last,  he  looked  up.  I  was  astonished  to  see  how 
happy  he  seemed,  for  he  was  generally  very  careless  of 
money. 

"  Monti,  I  have  farther  to  go  to-night,"  he  said,  hastily 
"I  can't  stop  with  you  now.  Good-by,  dear  old  boy,  and 
thanks  for  your  news.  I  shall  see  you  soon  again." 
And,  before  I  could  stop  him,  he  was  gone  again  as 
suddenly  as  he  had  come. 


BELLES  AND  BLACKCOCK.  287 

As  I  beard  afterwards,  Dyneley,  as  soon  as  lie  left  little 
Lilla,  found  out  that  he  had  not  been  with  her  four 
months  without  finding  her  winning  ways  and  frank 
affection  grow  necessary  to  him.  But  having  the  strong- 
est will  of  any  man  I  know,  he  set  sail,  and  compelled 
himself  to  be  away  six  months,  taking  Dalmaine  to  Bar- 
badoes,  that  in  case  his  resolution  failed  him  he  should 
still  be  obliged  to  go  on.  All  that  six  months  his  fiery 
and  unwelcome  passion  grew  and  grew,  as  it  does  in 
strong  natures,  with  absence  or  difficulty.  Night  after 
night  he  paced  the  deck  of  the  Aphrodite,  trying,  to  no 
purpose,  to  stifle  it.  It  was  not  the  slightest  use.  Love, 
in  men  like  Dyneley,  is  not  put  away  at  a  word,  and  he 
came  back  to  England  worse  than  he  was  before,  with 
only  one  thought  in  his  mind — to  see  Lilla.  Farther  he 
did  not  look,  for  though  his  pride  now  would  have 
yielded,  his  want  of  money  prevented  his  ever  making  her 
his  wife.  It  was  a  fair,  fresh  May  morning  when  he 
steamed  up  Loch  Fine  again,  and  saw  once  more  the 
lovely  woods  and  bays  of  Lilla's  Argyleshire.  His  love, 
fiery  as  Bucephalus  unbroken,  made  his  heart  beat  quick 
with  a  thousand  anxieties  and  vague  fears,  and  his  veins 
thrill  with  a  longing  to  see  her  face  and  hear  her  soft 
fond  voice.  At  a  slashing  stride  he  walked  the  ten  miles 
from  the  shore  to  Duncairn's  farm;  the  bodily  exertion 
was  a  relief  to  him.  He  came  to  the  very  glen  where  we 
had  lost  our  way;  he  saw  the  chimneys  of  the  house  far 
off  down  the  hill-side.  His  heart  stood  still  in  an  an- 
guish of  dread.     She  might  be  gone,  she  might  be 

The  last  thought  he  shut  out  as  too  hideous  to  be  en- 
dured. He  drew  near  the  gate,  and  thanked  God  when 
he  saw  her.  He  stood  for  a  time  behind  a  tree  and 
watched  her  sitting  on  the  steps  of  the  window,  her  little 
thin  hands  and  pale  cheeks,  with  the  total  absence  of  all 


288  BELLES   AND   BLACKCOCK. 

the  rayonnant  brightness  of  expression  once  her  pecnliar 
charm,  were  a  mute  reproach  to  him.  Poor  child !  she 
was  looking  at  his  picture.  He  pushed  the  gate  open, 
and  uttered  her  name.  She  glanced  up,  sprang  towards 
him  with  a  wild  cry,  and  threw  herself  on  his  breast, 
laughing  and  weeping  in  an  agony  of  joy.  She  looked 
up  in  his  face,  tears  raining  down  her  cheeks. 

"You  are  come  back  at  last.  I  knew  you  would.  I 
have  watched  for  you  every  day.  Ah,  you  will  never 
leave  me  again — promise  me  you  never  will !" 

Exhausted  with  the  intensity  of  her  joy,  she  turned  sick 
and  faint,  and  her  head  drooped  on  his  arm.  He  began 
to  fear  the  shock  might  harm  her;  but  joy  never  hurts 
any  one  permanently,  and  Dyneley's  words  and  caresses 
after  a  time  brought  her  to  consciousness,  though  not  for 
a  very  long  time  to  calmness.  But,  in  truth,  I  dare  say, 
though  he  sets  up  for  a  philosopher,  my  lord  was  not  so 
very  much  calmer  himself,  being,  for  all  he  may  say  to 
the  contrary,  of  an  enthusiastic,  vehement,  impulsive 
nature  when  he  is  roused. 

"  Ah !  it  was  cruel  to  leave  me,"  murmured  Lilla,  when 
they  had  grown  a  little  more  tranquil.  "  H  you  knew  all 
the  agonies  of  suspense,  all  I  have  felt  when  I  knew  not 
where  you  were,  whom  you  were  with,  whether  you  were 
well  or  ill,  happy  or  unhappy — if  you  could  guess  how 
the  days  dragged  on  from  sunrise  to  sunset,  and  I 
watched  for  you,  always  in  vain,  and  my  brain  whirled 
and  my  heart  sickened  with  the  longing  to  look  upon 
your  face — oh !  if  you  had  known  all  I  suffered,  I  do  not 
think  you  would  have  gone. 

Dyneley  thanked  her— selon  les  regies:  "  Dear  child,  do 
you  think  I,  too,  did  not  suffer?  I  did  what  I  thought 
best  for  you.  Honor  alone  forced  me  from  you  then. 
Had  I  stayed  another  day  in  Scotland  I  could  never  have 


BELLES  AND   BLACKCOCK.  289 

left  you.  But  when  I  was  away  from  you,  I  felt  to  the 
uttermost  how  dear  you  had  grown  to  me.  I  knew  that 
as  soon  as  I  came  to  England  I  should  come  to  you. 
Last  night  I  heard  of  my  inheritance  of  money,  which 
enables  me  to  marry;  and  to  you,  who  loved  me  when 
you  knew  not  that  I  loved  you,  you,  who  would  have 
loved  me  through  every  trial  and  every  sacrifice — to  you 
I  can  now  offer  both  my  name  and  my  home.  Make  me 
happy,  Lilla,  as,  since  my  boyhood,  I  have  never  yet 
been." 

They  were  married  in  Argyleshire  very  soon  after,  for 
if  Dyneley  sets  his  mind  upon  a  thing  he  never  waits  for 
it.  She  does  make  him  happy.  Her  caressing,  demon- 
strative, passionate  devotion  to  him  just  suits  him.  He 
wants  something  strong  and  out  of  the  common.  One  of 
your  "  quiet "  retiring  girls  with  their  calm,  domestic 
affection,  would  have  bored  him  eternally — never  under- 
stood, and  never  satisfied  him.  Anything  cold,  conven- 
tional, or  inanimate  in  a  wife  would  have  distracted  him, 
and  driven  him  away  from  her  in  no  time. 

Vauxley  is  thrown  open,  and  little  Lilla  shines  brilliantly 
in  her  new  life,  which  must  be  a  curious  contrast  to  that 
in  Argyleshire.  Women  take  her  to  task  for  her  enthu- 
siasm, her  impulsiveness,  and  for  a  hundred  thousand 
things,  of  course,  because  she  is  so  delightful  to  us. 
The  Cardonnels  would  now  be  very  happy  to  notice  her, 
and  make  many  advances  towards  it,  but  he  does  not  ' 
choose  his  little  diamond  of  the  Desert  should  be  so 
taken  up,  and  keeps  them  all  at  arm's  length.  Dyneley's 
chums  admire  her  immensely — an  admiration  which, 
though  she  likes  it,  as  it  does  credit  to  Dyneley's  taste, 
her  exclusive  worship  of  him  prevents  her  appreciating 
and  cultivating  as  much  as  Lady  Fitzcorrie,  no  doubt, 
would  do.  Dyneley  says  he  has  but  one  fault  to  find 
13 


290  BELLES  AND   BLACKCOCK. 

-with  her — she  will  pet  Mousqnetaire,  and  give  him 
cream,  and  such-like  injurious  condiments;  but  the  old 
dog  is  as  game  as  ever,  though  he  likes  to  follow  her 
over  the  house  as  well  as  to  follow  the  slot  of  a  deer. 
Claude  and  his  wife,  Homer  and  I,  and  two  or  three 
other  men,  were  down  at  Vauxley  last  September  for  the 
1st,  and  very  good  fun  we  had.  Altogether,  my  two 
friends  have  made  a  good  thing  of  that  autumn  at 
Glenmist,  when  they  bagged  en  meme  temps  Belles  and 
Blackcock.  I  often  think,  when  I  hear  his  clear  ringing 
voice  in  the  Lords,  or  his  musical  laugh  in  the  hunting- 
fields — and  he  often  says,  when  we  sit  in  the  smoking- 
room  at  Vauxley  (into  which  sanctuary  of  Cavendish, 
Lilla,  too,  sometimes  penetrates) — that  he  has  good 
cau«e  to  mark  with  a  white  stone  that  memorable  night 
when  we  lost  ourselves  in  the  mist,  and — a  little  Can- 

DLi  Oi  THE  MoOKS  LIGHTED  HlM  TO  HIS  DeSTLNY. 


HOW  I  WAS  TRACKED  BY 
TRAPPERS, 


HOW  I  WAS  TRACKED  BY  TRAPPERS. 


THE  ACQUAINTANCE  I  MADE  ON  BOARD  THE  "  LORD   WARDEN." 

Last  spring  I  thought  I  would  run  over  to  Paris,  a 
friend  of  mine,  attache  to  tLe  British  Legation,  wanted 
me  to  see  his  mare  Cantonniere  run  at  Chantilly  ;  so 
one  morning  I  put  myself  in  the  express  for  Folkestone 
with  a  dear,  dashing  little  widow  (who  was  perusing 
Bentley,  and  asked  me  if  I  did  not  "  think  that  fellow 
Ouida  had  been  jilted  by  some  woman,  he  was  so  spiteful 
on  the  beau  sexe's  shortcomings,")  and  got  on  board  the 
Lord  Warden,  with  Mills  and  the  luggage  and  my  bull-dog 
Pontos,  who  has  a  black  patch  over  one  eye,  and  might 
pass  for  a  Chelsea  pensioner  in  a  state  of  Soul  Transmi- 
gration. Much  yachting  has  given  me  an  segis,  thank 
Heaven !  against  any  soupc;on  of  mal  de  mer,  and  I  leaned 
against  the  side  of  the  deck  looking  at  the  passengers 
with  Pontos  looking  out  of  his  black  patch,  and  making 
an  inventory  of  them  likewise,  probably  with  a  keen  eye 
to  business  in  the  way  of  legs  that  might  be  snapped  at 
with  impunity.  Pontos's  mission  in  life  was  snapping  at 
legs,  and  he  naturally  viewed  people  through  that  me- 
dium.    Everybody  looks  through  his  own  glass,  be  it  a 


29-i  HOW  I    WAS  TRACKED   BY  TRAPPERS. 

burnt  or  a  Claude  one,  and  will  be  shot  if  he  will  look 
through  anybody's  else.     Why  might  not  Pontos,  too? 
Canine  snapping  at   enemies'  ankles  is   not   more   dan- 
gerous than  human  snapping  at  friends'  characters  and 
reputations,  is  it  ?     There  were  a  good  many  people  on 
board  :  there  were  Smith,  Brown,  and  Jones,  of  course, 
looking  miserably   ill,  but   talking   of  the   Hopera   and 
" '  Ide  Park "  with  sickly   smiles.     I  never   travel  but  I 
see  that  genus   somewhere — wretched   swells  who  make 
me    ready  to  cut  off  my  own  moustaches  in  disgust,  and 
dress  in  serge  and  sackcloth,  when  I  see  their  horrible 
stubbly   caricatures,  and   their   shocking   onslaught   on 
taste  and  ties.     There  were  pretty  girls  in  hats  lisping 
Longfellow's  poem  on  The  Sea  and  petting  infinitesimal 
terriers  with  shy  glances  at  us,  to  show  how  they  would 
pet  us,  if  we  would  let  them.     There  were  a  bride  and 
bridegroom,  who  seemed  to  find  romance  uncommonly 
slow  work  with  a  rough  sea,  and  a  hard-hearted  steward, 
and  a   small   storm   of    smuts   from   the   funnel,  which 
seemed  as  destructive  to  the  lady's  temper  as  they  decid- 
edly were  to  her  bonnet.     There  was  a  vieille  fille,  who, 
on  embarking,  expressed  her  opinion  that "  it  was  beau- 
tiful," referring  to  the   sea   by   that  laudatory  epithet, 
which  fickle  element  felt  the  compliment  so  little,  that, 
instead  of  returning  it,  it  tossed  her  in  ten  minutes'  time 
into  the  most  complete  antithesis  of  beauty  that  ever  the 
female  countenance  could  be  imagined  to  present ;  and 
there  was  an  odd,  mean,  little  old  man,  who  ajjpeared 
everlastingly    occupied   in   looking   at   me.     There   was 
nothing  remarkable  about  me  that  I  knew  of — nothing 
odd,  I  trusted — certainly  nothing  suspicious  ;  I  was  not 
got  up  so  elaborately  as  my  friends  the  swells,  to  be  sure: 
I  had  on  a  wide-awake,  and  a  ribbon  tie,  and  a  Maude 
of  the  simplest  shepherd  plaid  possible.     Nothing  queer 


HOW  I  WAS  TRACKED  BY  TRAPPERS.  295 

about  them,  was  there  ?  But  I  certainly  was  an  object  of 
most  extreme  solicitude  to  this  old  fellow;  he  watched 
me  furtively  like  a  cat  a  mouse-hole,  and  finally  sidled 
up,  and  began  speaking  to  me. 

"Rough  sea,  sir,  isn't  it  ?" 

Now  I  was  too  much  of  an  Englishman  not  to  look 
upon  it  as  confounded-  impudence  for  him  to  address  me, 
but  I  was  still  cosmojtolitan  enough  to  consider  it  only 
due  to  courtesy  to  reply,  so  I  compromised  the  matter 
by  giving  a  monosyllabic  rejoinder: 

"Rather!" 

"Great  traveller,  perhaps,  sir — don't  mind  it?"  As 
he  got  no  answer  this  time,  he  tried  me  with  something 
else:  "Fond  of  smoking,  I  see,  sir?  Very  nice  amuse- 
ment, I  dare  say,  when  it  don't  make  one  sick  ?  Wish 
I  could  do  it,  but  I  can't.  That's  an  uncommonly  hand- 
some pipe  of  yours,  sir  ?" 

My  pipe  was  handsome,  and  a  singular  one,  too  inso- 
much as  the  bowl  was  curiously  moulded  like  a  grinning 
faun's  head,  and  I  had  had  my  crest  put  on  it  with  my 
initials,  and  generally  used  it,  though  it  was  cumbersome 
in  size. 

"  An  uncommonly  nice  pipe,"  went  on  the  loquacions 
little  animal,  eying  me  and  the  meerschaum  as  if  we 
were  something  unparalleled  and  monstrous.  "Going 
as  far  as  Paris,  may  I  ask?" 

"  No,  sir,  you  may  not  ask,  for  it  is  no  concern  of 
yours,"  said  I,  knocking  the  ashes  off  the  pipe,  and  look- 
ing at  him. 

I  suppose  my  eyes  expressed  my  thoughts,  which  were  ■ 
simply,  "What  the  deuce  do  you  mean  by  your  imperti- 
nence ?"  for   the  old  fellow  gave  a  httle  chuckle,  moved, 
away,  and  I  heard  him  mutter  to  himself,  as  if  I  were  a 
runaway  apprentice,  and  he  was  making  out  the  items  of 


296  HOW  I  WAS  TRACKED  BY  TEAPPERS. 

my  personnel,  "  Six  feet  as  near  as  may  be,  brown  mous- 
taches, aquiline  features,  shepherd-plaid  scarf,  wide- 
awake, meerschaum  with  a  faun's  head  and  the  letters 
L.  V.  H.  on  the  bowl.  Worth  taking  down,  and  keeping 
an  eye  upon,  anyhow.  I'll  ask  madame  what  she  thinks, 
Mighty  stiltified !  Well  see  if  we  can't  take  the  rise  out 
of  him."  And  the  little  man  shuffled  away,  taking  his 
mem. -book  out.  What  for?  Not  to  enter  mine  and  my 
meerschaum's  appearance,  surely?  I  was  not  outlawed 
for  debt,  or  a  secretary  of  a  Bible  Society  flying  with  the 
guineas  of  Christian  supporters  to  spend  them  over  the 
water,  nor  a  bank  director  cutting  a  rotten  concern  to  go 
and  set  up  a  dashing  hotel  in  the  Champs  Elysees  with 
the  tin  of  deluded  shareholders.  Take  the  rise  out  of 
me  ?  I  laughed  at  the  little  wretch's  oddity,  as  Pontos 
gave  a  low  growl  after  the  departing  legs  he  had  not 
been  permitted  to  snap  at,  and  I  put  my  pipe  in  my 
pocket  and  turned  to  take  a  walk  up  and  down  the  deck. 
My  curious  interlocutor  had  disappeared,  into  the  cabin 
possibly,  and  I  walked  up  and  down  unmolested,  thank- 
ing my  stars  I  was  not  that  unlucky  bridegroom  who 
between  his  own  sensations,  his  nouvelle  marine's  tem- 
per, and  the  funnel's  smuts,  seemed  to  think  he  had  bet- 
ter give  up  the  ghost  altogether,  and  find  a  watery  grave 
under  the  paddle-wheels.  And  as  I  walked  I  saw,  just 
coming  out  of  the  cabin,  a  lady,  flipping  across  the  deck 
as  safely  as  if  it  had  been  a  ball-room  floor,  and  showing 
the  most  charming  little  brodequins  in  the  transit,  fin- 
ally nestling  herself  among  a  pile  of  cushions,  like  a  silky 
little  dog  in  its  basket  (or  a  Nereid  in  the  curl  of  a  wave, 
my  dear  young  sir,  if  you  prefer  poetic  similes,  in  which 
case,  par  parenthese,  I  would  beg  to  refer  you  to  Mr. 
Coventry  Patmore,  who  carries  poetry  into  the  kitchen, 
and  makes  verses  upon  burst  boilers  and  other  domes- 


HOW  I   WAS  TRACKED  BY  TRAPPEKS.  297 

ticities  of  a  like  character,  with  a  ponderous  jjlayfulness 
quite  marvellous — so  marvellous  that,  like  a  certain  dex- 
terous coup  d'etat,  we  would  rather  not  see  it  imitated, 
we  think) — well,  my  lady  was  an  exceedingly  pretty  little 
one,  as  pretty  as  her  brodequins  ;  and  as  she  lay  curled 
on  her  cushions,  with  a  French  novel  and  a  smelling- 
bottle  in  her  small,  plump,  bien  gante  hands,  with  her 
shining  crepe  hair  and  her  bright,  sparkling,  inquisitive 
eyes,  like  a  marmoset's — and  her  pretty  carnation  cheeks 
and  I  was  just  thinking  to  myself  what  a  godsend  the 
bewitching  little  creature  was,  and  going  to  address  her 
with  some  common-place  or  other,  pour  commencer, 
when  up  she  started,  with  a  little  scream,  and  both 
hands  extended  :  "  Ah !  vous  voila  !  Mon  Dieu,  comme 
je  suis  enchantee !  Nous  sommes  deux  feuilles  volantes, 
et  nous  voila  rencontrees  par  hasard  encore  une  fois !" 
Here  was  somebody  who  knew  me  decidedly,  but  where 
the  deuce  had  I  seen  her?  She  met  me  with  the  great- 
est animation — I  might  say  ecstasy,  if  it  didn't  sound 
vain — she  recognized  me  clearly,  and,  what  was  more, 
seemed  delighted  to  do  so,  and  I  hadn't  the  faintest 
conception  of  ever  having  seen  her  face  before !  There  I 
stood,  holding  her  hands  of  course,  and  looking  down  at 
her,  wondering  where  the  deuce  I  had  met  her,  raking  up 
every  place  I'd  ever  been  in,  from  the  Closerie  des  Lilas  to 
the  Salt  Lake,  and  trying  to  remember  every  woman  I'd 
ever  seen,  from  the  peeresses  at  Almack's  to  the  canti- 
nieres  in  the  Crimea.  It  was  not  a  bit  of  use;  I  didn't 
recollect  her,  and  I  couldn't,  but  I  was  scarcely  going  to 
tell  her  so,  comme  vous  concevez,  so  I  pi-essed  her  cream- 
colored  gloves  warmly,  paid  her  a  compliment  on  her 
looks,  told  her  I  was  enchanted  to  see  her — which  was 
perfectly  true,  for  I  thought  a  little  mild  flirtation  would 
while  away  the  time  very  pleasantly  in  the  train  to  Paris, 


298  HOW  I   WAS   TRACKED   BY  TEAPPEES. 

if  she  were  going  on  there;  and,  finally,  sat  down  by  her, 
talking  away  as  if  we  were  old  friends,  without  the  faint- 
est shadow  of  an  idea  who  the  devil  she  was.  She  might 
be  a  serene  highness  of  Something-Schwerin;  she  might 
be  a  danseuse  out  of  the  Haymarket;  she  might  be  a  for- 
eign princess  with  countless  titles;  she  might  be  a  little 
adventuress  with  only  paste  rings;  I  didn't  know,  and, 
what's  much  moie,  I  didn't  care:  she  knew  me,  and  was 
extremely  pleasant  with  me,  and  was  a  gay,  legere,  agree- 
able, very  pretty  little  woman — a  dangerous  one,  very 
likely,  on  further  acquaintance — but  I  had  eaten  too  much 
wheat  in  my  day  to  fear  being  caught  with  chaff,  and  I 
sat  on  the  bench  beside  her,  the  envied  of  Brown,  Jones, 
and  Robinson,  I  doubt  not,  and  talked  away  to  this 
charming  friend  of  mine,  whom  I'd  never  come  across 
before,  to  the  best  of  my  own  knowledge,  though  she 
was  evidently  as  intimate  as  could  be  with  me,  so  inti- 
mate that  I  began  to  think  my  memory  must  be  failing 
me,  or  that  the  Bass  I  had  taken  at  Folkenstone  must  have 
had  a  dash  of  Lethe  in  it,  that  I  couldn't  anyway  remem- 
ber those  bright,  brown,  marmoset  eyes,  and  that  pi- 
quant nez  retrousse,  whose  owner  retained  so  flattering  a 
recollection  of  me. 

"Last  August,"  thought  I,  "where  the  deuce  was  I? 
In  Perthshire,  I'd  swear,  knocking  over  the  grouse  with 
Fairlie.  I  haven't  been  at  Ems  for  five  years  and  more." 
But,  place  aux  dames! — if  they  don't  stick  to  truth  we 
mustn't  always  be  telling  them  so,  or  we  should  eternally 
be  guilty  of  the  rudeness  of  contradiction;  so  I  asked 
her  a  counter  query,  if  she  thought  it  possible  for  any 
living  man  to  forget  any  days  he'd  had  the  happiness  of 
spending  with  her  ? 

"Fi  done,  becasse!"  she  cried,  giving  me  a  blow  with 
her  ivory-hadled  parasol,  and  laughing  a  gay,  musical 


HOW  I  WAS   TRACKED  BY  TRAPPERS.  299 

laugh,  "  Do  you  suppose  I  believe  that?  Not  a  word  of 
it.  I  remember  you  too  well  of  old !  Poor  D'Aguilar, 
do  you  remember  him  that  night  at  your  petit  souper — 
he  had  lost  at  the  roulette — and  what  fun  we  made  of 
him  ?     Have  you  ever  seen  him  since  ?" 

"  D'Aguilar  ?  No,  I  don't  think  I  have,"  said  I.  Now, 
to  the  best  of  my  behef,  I'd  never  known  a  man  of  the  name, 
but  he  might  have  made  an  impression  on  her  and  none 
on  me,  so  I  let  that  pass  and  thought  what  a  very  pretty 
figure  she  was  as  she  lay  back  on  the  cushions,  taking  the 
jDerfume  from  her  flacon,  which  had  Jockey  Club  at  one 
end  of  it,  and  I've  a  shrewd  suspicion  sal  volatile  at  the 
other,  as  certain  clever  Essayists  we  know  of  have  re- 
freshing rationalism  for  those  who  can  appreciate  it  at 
one  end  of  their  pen,  but  a  little  drop  of  orthodoxy  still 
at  the  other  to  assuage  their  bishop's  qualms  and  preserve 
their  social  preferments.  (Query:  Is  that  their  fault 
after  all  ?  If  Truth  paid  a  little  better  and  Profession 
a  little  worse,  shouldn't  we  have  more  of  the  one  and 
less  of  the  other  ?  II  faut  vivre,  and  so — men  hold  their 
tongues.) 

"And  are  you  going  on  to  Paris,  mon  cher?"  asked 
my  new  acquaintance,  or  rather  my  old  friend.  "  Ah, 
you  are,  then  ?  I  am  very  glad  of  that,  you  can  see  me 
through  that  horrid  douane,  and  we  can  go  on  to  Paris 
together.  And  what  have  you  been  doing  with  your- 
self ?  losing  your  money  after  those  stupid  horses,  and 
risking  your  neck  after  foxes,  and  making  love  to  all  the 
pretty  women  you've  met,  and  forgetting  me,  your  best 
friend?" 

Now  positively  she'd  hit  so  exactly  on  my  occupations, 
that,  with  the  greatest  effrontery  in  the  world,  I  couldn't 
have  told  her  she  was  wrong;  and  as  for  forgetting  her,  I 
certainly  had  done  that  with  a  completeness  only  equal 


300  HOW   I   WAS   TKACKED   BY   TRAPPERS. 

to  that  with  which  your  oldest  chum  who  has  gone  to  the 
Bad  invariably  forgets  that  "  little  bill,"  or  that  "  mere 
bagatelle"  he  borrowed  of  you  on  the  strength  of  the 
old  Eton  and  Cambridge  days.  So  I  made  her  another 
pretty  indefinite  speech  that  sounded  a  good  deal,  but, 
sifted,  meant  nothing,  as  several  speeches  do,  forensic, 
ministerial,  post-prandial,  and  others;  and  while  the 
Lord  Warden  puffed  across  the  Channel,  and  Pontos 
snapped  at  each  stewardess  as  she  passed  him,  and  the 
nouveaux  maries  looked  at  each  other  as  if  in  mute  but 
stern  demand  why  a  Margate  moon  wouldn't  have  done 
as  well  as  a  Boulogne  one  for  their  lune  de  miel,  my 
friend  and  I  flirted  pleasantly  in  that  silvery  Galhc 
tongue,  best  of  all  for  coquetry  or  repartee,  till  the 
steamer  ploughed  her  way  into  the  Anglo-French 
port. 

"  Take  care  of  my  luggage  a  moment,"  said  she  ;  "  I 
have  left  my  handkerchief  in  the  cabin.  No !  I  would 
rather  go  for  it  myself." 

And  down  she  went,  while  I,  with  her  maid,  guarded 
the  boxes,  at  which  I  hastily  darted  a  glance  and  read, 
"  Madame  la  Comtesse  de  Coquelicot." 

"  Coquelicot !  Coquelicot !"  I'd  never  heard  the  name 
in  my  life ;  but,  however,  I  wouldn't  tell  her  so.  I  was 
in  for  the  acquaintance,  and  I  knew  very  well  how  to 
take  care  of  myself  and  my  purse;  besides,  Madame  de 
Coquelicot  was  very  pretty,  and  extremely  agreeable  to 
me.  As  I  was  looking  at  them  I  thought  I  heard  some- 
body say  sharply,  "  Vous  ne  voyez  pas  plus  loin  que  votx*e 
nez.  Laissez-moi  faire  et  je  lui  ferai  voir  du  pays. 
Prenez  garde  qu'il  ne  verrouille  pas,  c'est  tout  ce  que 
vous  avez  a  faire !"  I  thought  it  sounded  like  my  coun- 
tess's voice,  but  it  couldn't  be,  for  she  just  then  stood  by 
my  elbow  bidding  me  take  all  the  trouble,  and  mind  the 


t 


HOW  I  WAS  TRACKED  BY  TRAPPERS.       301 

douaniers  didn't   touch  her  boxes,  or  she  would  never 
speak  to  me  again. 


II. 

HOW,  NOT  OWING  A  CENTIME,  I  WAS  STILL  PLUNGED  INTO  DEBT. 

Of  course  I  saw  her  through  the  donane  and  into  the 
train,  which  was  just  starting  for  Paris,  and  got  in  my- 
self. She  was  a  very  agreeable  woman.  No  possible 
harm  could  come  of  a  little  civility  to  her  on  a  journey; 
if  she  was  a  dame  d'industrie,  I  wasn't  a  boy,  to  let  her 
lighten  my  pockets;  I  had  known  too  many  comtesses 
baronnes,  marquises.  So  I  sat  opposite  to  her  in  the 
same  carriage  with  the  rector,  who  wrapped  himself  in 
a  great-coat  and  that  customary  hedgehog  noli  me  tangere 
seclusion  common  to  habitants  of  the  Britannic  Isles, 
and  went  to  sleep,  and  a  lady  and  her  daughter,  at 
whom — the  girl  beating  her  out  and  out  for  beauty— I 
saw  madame  cast  certain  contemptuous  irritated  glances. 
Did  you  ever  see  any  woman  look  pleasantly  at  another 
if  she  was  pretty,  or  speak  well  of  her  by  any  chance  ?  / 
never  did.  Ladies  may  admit  some  possibility  of  virtue 
in  a  plain  sister,  but  in  an  attractive  one  never.  Teresa 
Yelverton  has  our  sympathy  and  admiration,  but 
wouldn't  her  own  sex  have  loved  to  stone  her  if  they 
could  have  found  a  flaw,  for  her  one  unpardonable  sin, 
poor  little  dear !  in  being  attractive,  talented,  and  fasci- 
nating ?  Arria  Pcetus  might  be  as  pure,  as  noble,  as 
self  devoted  as  she  would,  but  I  don't  doubt  that  the 
Roman  ladies,  en  petit  comite,  hated  her  for  the  adniira- 


302  HOW  I  WAS   TRACKED   BY  TRAPPERS. 

tion  she  excited,  and  tried  their  best  to  put  some  "  bad 
construction"  even  on  the  heroic  "Pcete  non  dolet "  of 
a  nature  too  high  and  loving  for  them  to  be  able  to  meas- 
ure or  understand,  or  do  anything  but  vent  their  spite 
m  throwing  stones  at  it ! 

The  train  whisked  on,  and  madame  settled  herself  in 
her  compartment,  looking  as  fresh  and  as  crisp  and  as 
charmingly  got  up  as  if  she'd  just  come  out  of  her  bou- 
doir instead  of  off  the  Lord  Warden,  and  chatted  away 
so  familiarly  that  I  felt  quite  sure  she  must  have  known 
me  all  my  life,  though  to  the  best  of  my  belief  I'd  never 
seen  her  till  an  hour  before.  She  called  me  "  Mon  cher  " 
and  "  mon  garcon,"  and  evidently  was  so  well  acquainted 
with  me  that  it  would  have  been  a  height  of  discourtesy 
to  tell  her  the  reciprocity  wTas  all  on  one  side,  as  the 
Irishmen  have  it,  and  that  I  had  no  more  remembrance 
of  her  than  I  had  of  the  pointsman  or  the  guard. 

So  we  talked  away  very  pleasantly,  those  quick  hand- 
some brown  eyes  of  hers  scanning  me  so  intently  when 
I  appeared  not  to  be  looking  at  her,  and  professing  them- 
selves under  their  curled  lashes  so  perfectly  innocent  of 
intending  any  such  scrutiny  when  I  did  regard  her,  that 
I  began  to  be  a  little  intrigue  as  to  what  possible  inter- 
est I  could  possess  for  her,  and  to  think  I  must  be  a 
more  interesting  personage  than  I  had  ever  flattered 
myself  before.  It  was  between  four  and  five  when  we 
hissed  and  snorted  and  puffed  into  the  Paris  station,  I 
put  my  little  comtesse  into  a  carriage  that  was  waiting 
for  her,  a  very  dashing  carriage,  with  a  pair  of  fretting 
bays,  three  parts  thorough-bred,  that  wouldn't  have 
made  a  bad  figure  in  the  Ring,  and  had  the  tenderest 
poignee  de  main  that  ever  such  little  cream-gloved  fin- 
gers gave  a  man,  as  Madame  de  Coquelicot  said  most 
amiably. 


HOW  I  WAS  TKACKED   BY  TKATPEKS.  303 

"Come  and  see  me  to-morrow,  mon  ami.  No!  not 
this  evening,  I  am  too  tired;  but  to-morrow  as  early  as 
you  like.     The  old  quarters,  you  know." 

"Where  the  deuce  are  they?"  thought  I,  as  I  said 
aloud,  "  The  old  quarters  ?  Let  me  see,  what  is  the  ex- 
act address  ?" 

"Numero  quinze,  Hue  Belphegor-et-Melusine,  quartier 
du  Diable  Boiteux — don't  you  remember?  Adieu,  and 
au  revoir!" 

And  madame  waved  me  her  hand  and  bade  her  coach- 
man drive  off,  and  I  laughed  as  I  turned  away  to  think 
how  entirely  I'd  forgotten  my  fair  friend,  or  how  clev- 
erly the  little  woman  pretended  to  an  intimacy  with  me, 
for  some  purport  or  other,  that  remained  hidden  in  the 
leaves  of  fate.  "  I'll  see  that  farce  to  the  end.  I'm  not 
a  young  bird  to  be  trapped  and  plucked,  and  she's  cer- 
tainly pretty  enough  to  take  the  trouble  of  calling  on 
her,"  I  thought  to  myself,  as  I  walked  to  the  voiture  Mills 
had  summoned.  As  I  jumped  into  it  I  dropped  my  stick. 
Somebody  picked  it  up,  and  as  I  thanked  him,  I  saw  it 
was  the  little  man  whom  I  had  snubbed  so  unceremoni- 
ously on  board  the  Lord  Warden.  "  You  are  quite  wel- 
come sir;  good  evening,"  he  said,  shuffling  off  to  his  own 
cab.  And  when  I  was  set  down  at  the  rooms  where  I 
generally  stay  when  in  Paris,  who  should  stand  on  the 
pave,  watching  me  curiously,  but  the  old  fellow  again,  or 
his  ghost — a  very  seedy-looking  ghost,  too,  with  a  disre- 
putable air,  redolent  of  Whitecross  Street,  Leicester 
Square,  Homburg,  and  all  refuges  for  those  whom  for- 
tune won't  smile  upon,  and  whose  characters  are  usu- 
ally purified  with  the  ablution  known  as  whitewash — 
watching  me,  certainly  watching  me,  though  he  did  his 
best  not  to  be  seen.  Why  had  I  all  of  a  sudden  become 
so  extreme  an  object  of  interest  to  people?     Did  they 


30-1  HOW  I  WAS   TEACKED   BY   TEAPPEES. 

take  me  for  the  Comte  de  Chambord  conie  to  steal  sur- 
reptitiously into  the  Tuileries  to  take  the  crown  from 
that  clever  fellow  who  is  his  own  deus  ex  maehina,  and 
seems  to  have  stolen  Atropos's  scissors  and  to  be  snip- 
ping the  thread  long  and  short,  as  it  amuses  him,  for 
everybody  in  Europe  ?  Did  they  fancy  I'd  come  to  fire 
off  bombs  like  Orsini,  or  to  dabble  in  giant  frauds  like 
Law  or  Mires  ?  Had  I  anything  odd  about  me  ?  Had  I 
murdered  anybody  without  knowing  it  ?  entered  into  a 
conspiracy  without  remembering  it?  become  a  celebre 
without  being  aware  of  it?  joined  a  secret  society  and 
broken  my  oath  without  recollecting  it  ?  The  people  of 
the  hotel  didn't  seem  to  find  anything  peculiar  in  me; 
they  recognised  me,  indeed,  but  in  no  unpleasant  man- 
ner, as  their  recognition  resulted  in  as  good  a  dinner 
and  as  choice  wines  as  ever  gladdened  a  man's  soul,  over 
which  I  forgot  all  about  the  acquaintance  on  board  the 
Lord  Warden,  and  after  which  I  drove  to  tha  Jockey 
Club,  found  up  my  old  chums,  went  to  the  Opera  to  see 
a  new  danseuse  in  "Satanella,"  supped  at  the  Maison 
Doree,  and  finally  went  back  to  the  Hotel  de  Londres  in 
the  grey  of  the  spring  morning,  which  was  just  light 
enough  for  me  to  see  two  men  dodging  me  from  the  cafe 
— which  it  was  easy  to  do,  for  my  driver  was  an  Alsatian 
and  sleepy,  and  let  his  horse  creep  at  his  will — two  men 
whom  I  heard  whisper, 

"C'est  lui — sans  doute  c'est  lui — au  moins  a  perte  de 
vue.     II  faut  faire  le  bee  a  monsieur " 

I  lost  the  rest;  but  what  the  deuce  did  they  know 
about  me?  and  to  whom  were  they  going  to  give  a  cue  as 
if  I'd  escaped  from  a  lunatic  asylum  and  was  required 
to  be  recaptured?  It  was  too  dark  to  see,  but  one  of 
them  looked  deucedly  like  my  little  old  man  of  the 
steamer;  but   what   possible   interest  on   earth   could  I 


HOW  I  "WAS   TRACKED  BY  TEAPPEES.  305 

have  for  them  ?  I  owed  no  man  anything,  nobody  could 
pull  me  up  for  debt — not  even  for  a  case  of  Hayanas, 
or  a  paii*  of  gloves,  unpaid  for;  it  was  vastly  odd  to  be 
dodged  in  this  style,  as  if  detectives  were  at  my  heels 
for  embezzlement.  But  I  was  too  tired  too  think  much 
about  it,  so  I  turned  in  and  went  to  sleep,  by  no  means 
uncertain  that  I  shouldn't  be  woke  up  like  Changarnier 
in  the  middle  of  the  night,  and  marched  off  by  gendar- 
merie, possibly  to  find  myself  located  in  Brest,  or  Tou- 
lon, for  some  capital  crime  of  which  I'd  forgotten  being 
the  perpetrator. 

"When  the  morning  rose,  I  remembered  my  engagement 
to  Madame  de  Coqiielicot,  my  pretty  little  friend  who 
knew  so  much  about  me,  and  of  whom  I  knew  nothing, 
and  was  just  going  into  my  coffee,  omelette,  claret,  sar- 
dines, and  all  the  rest  of  it,  and  looking  over  the  Times 
and  the  Charivari  in  my  own  room  preparatory  to  call- 
ing on  her,  when  Mills  tapped  at  the  door. 

"  If  you  please,  sir,  there's  a  man  here  who  wants  to 
see  you." 

"  See  me !     What  for  ?" 

"  He  says  he  wants  to  see  you  about  some  wine,  sir — 
three  dozen,  of  Marcobrunnen  as  is  owing  for." 

"Owing  for?  Nonsense.  Never  bought  any  Marco- 
brunnen by  the  dozen  in  my  life.  He's  made  a  mistake; 
go  and  tell  him  so." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,  but  he  says  you  do  owe  it  him, 
sir,  and  he  won't  go  without  it,"  said  Mills,  returning. 

"  Deuce  take  his  impudence  !  he's  made  some  mistake, 
I  tell  you  ;  he  must  have  the  wrong  name." 

"No,  sir,  he  hasn't  got  the  wrong  name;  leastways, 
not  wrong  as  the  French  would  pronounce  it.  He  asked 
me  for  Monsieur  Hervey,  and  here's  the  bill  if  you  will 
please  to  look  at  it." 


30fi  HOW  I   WAS   TRACKED   BY   TEAPPEES. 

"  Take  the  bill  to  the  deuce,"  said  I,  "  and  don't  come 
bothering  me.  I  don't  owe  a  centime  in  Paris;  tell  him 
so,  and  that  if  he  doesn't  go  about  his  business  we  shall 
call  in  the  police." 

Mills  departed  on  his  mission,  and  I  righted  my  meer- 
schaum to  have  a  cpiiet  smoke,  but  peace  was  not  for  me : 
there  came  another  tap  at  the  door,  and  Mills  ventured 
in  again,  every  lineament  of  his  countenance  replete 
with  injured  dignity  and  noble  indignation. 

"  What's  the  row,  Mills  ?     Won't  the  fellow  go  ?" 

"Yes,  sir,  he's  gone;  but,  sir,  he  had  the  impudence 
to  say  he'd  have  the  law  upon  you;  he  did,  indeed,  sir, 
for  a  paltry  three  dozen  of  hock !" 

It  was  the  horrible  insignificance  of  the  debt  that 
overwhelmed  Mills.  If  it  had  been  a  few  thousands, 
now,  he  wouldn't  have  felt  lowered  by  it;  he  was  ac- 
customed to  live  with  gentlemen  who,  if  they  got  into 
difficulties,  got  into  them  en  roi,  and  who,  if  they  went 
to  the  dogs,  drove  on  that  unpleasant  road  au  grand 
galop,  with  postilions,  and  outriders,  and  all  the  rest  of 
it,  comme  il  faut. 

"  For  a  debt  I  don't  owe !  that's  a  good  idea.  He'll 
have  to  prove  my  identity  first,  and  his  own  claim  after- 
wards. What  you  mean  by  listening  to  such  fellows  I 
can't  imagine,  Mills.  You  should  send  them  to  the 
right-about  without  coming  to  trouble  me." 

"  But,  sir,  if  you  please,  sir,  there's  another  one  now — 
from  a  M.  Follet's,  of  the  Rue  Vivienne — about  some 
coats  and  vests,  sir,  that  he  says  you  had  of  him  this 
time  last  year. 

"  God  bless  me !  are  all  the  Parisians  gone  mad  ?  I 
owe  no  debts  here — not  a  sou.  It's  a  pleasant  thing, 
certainly,  if  tradesmen  can  saddle  foreigners  with  bills 
in  this  style !     What  the  deuce  do  they  mean  by  it  ?" 


HOW  I  WAS   TRACKED   BY  TRAPPERS.  307 

"  Then  you  won't  look  at  the  bill  if  you  please,  sir  ?" 

"  Certainly  not.  It  is  nothing  to  me.  Go  and  turn  the 
fellows  out  this  moment,  or  let  them  find,  then*  right 
debtor.  This  is  a  pretty  state  of  things !  to  be  besieged 
by  creditors  the  minute  one  sets  foot " 

But  my  peroration  was  cut  short.  Through  the  doer 
which  Mills  had  left  open  a  little  burst  a  wiry,  excitable, 
voluble,  and  indelibly  wronged  little  man,  who  pounced 
upon  me  with  wild  alacrity. 

"Ah,  monsieur,  vous  voila  attrape !  Payez-nous  cela 
— cinq  cent  quatre-vingt-douze  francs.  Voyez  vous  ! 
voila  une  annee  entiere  que  nous  vous  avons  attendu. 
Cinq  cent  quatre-vingt-douze  francs.  Regardez  le  me- 
moire:  un  habit,  un  Tahna,  un " 

"  Allez-vous  en  !"  said  I,  repressing  a  strong  impulse 
to  laugh — an  impulse  which,  I  believe,  lowered  me  irrem- 
ediably in  Mills's  eyes.  "  Allez-vous  en !  je  ne  vous  dois 
pas  un  sou.  Je  ne  suis  jamais  entre  dans  votre  magasin. 
Comment  osez-vous " 

"Quoi!"  shrieked  the  little  emissary  of  M.  Follet. 
"  Vous  ne  nous  devez  rien  ?  Oh,  monstre  d' Anglais ! 
vous  ne  nous  devez  rien?  Mais  regardez  done  le  me- 
moire !" 

"  Au  diable  le  memoire,  et  vous  aussi !  Quittez  ma 
chambre  a  l'instant,  ou  j'appellerai,"  began  I,  taking  my 
pipe  out  of  my  mouth,  fairly  exasperated.  "  Mills,  why 
don't  you  turn  that  fellow  out;  he  is  subject  to  the  law  al- 
ready, for  assaulting  me  in  this  manner."  The  Little  fel- 
low did  not  wait  to  be  turned  out;  the  bully  and  the 
coward  generally  unite  in  one  person,  they  say,  and  I 
suppose  the  vision  of  single  combat  with  two  monstres 
d' Anglais  was  too  much  for  him. 

"  Vous  avez  refuse  de  me  payer,  et  vous  m'avez  men- 
ace.    C'est  bien,  monsieur !     Nous  verrons!" 


308  '    HOW  I   WAS   TRACKED   BY  TRAPPERS. 

And  he  clattered  down  the  stairs,  signed  thither  in  a 
lordly  and  imperious  manner  by  Mills,  as  fast  as  his 
little  feet  could  carry  him;  and  as  he  went  we  heard  a 
diminuendo  cataract  of  "  Affreux  menteur  ! — Abomina- 
ble scelerat !"  &c.  &c,  in  his  shrill,  vociferous,  little  voice, 
and  I  told  Mills  to  get  my  hat  and  gloves,  thinking  de- 
cidedly that  Paris  folk  had  gone  mad,  and  that  I  had 
become  the  special  object  of  their  insane  fury.  I'd  fallen 
into  a  nest  of  people  who  evidently  knew  more  about 
me  than  I  knew  myself,  and  I  wondered  if  I  should  find 
any  Q.  E.  D.  to  the  problem  at  Madame  de  Coquelicot's, 
as  I  got  into  a  Hansom  and  bade  the  driver  take  me  to 
No.  15,  Rue  Belphegor-et-Melusine,  quartier  du  Diable 
Boite?ix,  of  which  fashionable  faubourg,  if  you  are  igno- 
rant, I  beg  leave  to  hint  that  you  know  nothing  of  Paris. 


m. 

HOW   I    FELL    AMONG    THIEVES. 

It  was  a  very  handsome  house,  but  one  which,  though 
madame  had  alluded  to  it  as  old  quarters  very  familiar 
to  me,  I  had  never  been  in,  to  my  knowledge.  I  inquired 
for  madame.  The  porter  answered,  "  Oui,  monsieur,  elle 
est  chez  elle,  Montez  au  premier,  s'il  vous  plait;"  and 
au  premier  I  went  accordingly,  where  I  was  received  by 
an  exceedingly  resplendent  valet  who  appeared  to  know 
perfectly  who  I  was  without  my  telling  him.  The  deuce, 
I  thought,  it  was  uncommonly  odd  everybody  knew  me 
here,  and  I  could  recollect  nobody !  But  I  had  no  time 
to  reflect  upon  it,  fo  the  valet  flung  the  door  open,  and  I 


HOW    I   WAS  TKACKED   BY  TItAPPEKS.  309 

•was  ushered  into  the  presence  of  my  Comtesse  de  Coque- 
licot.  If  she  had  looked  charming  on  the  deck  of  the 
Lord  Warden,  she  looked  ten  thousand  times  more  so 
now,  sitting  in  a  dormeuse,  clad  in  the  daintiest  neglige 
possible  to  devise,  with  cobweb  lace  about  her  throat 
and'  wrists,  and  gold-broidered  slippers  on  her  feet,  as 
pretty  a  tableau  as  a  man  could  want,  reading  her  yel- 
low-papered roman,  and  stirring  the  cream  into  some 
chocolate  that  stood  on  a  little  silver  service  by  her 
side :  a  very  pretty  tableau  indeed — too  pretty,  surely,  for 
me  to  have  so  utterly  forgotten  it  if  I  had  ever  seen 
it  before  !  She  rose  to  meet  me  with  her  hands  out- 
stretched, and  so  sweet  a  smile,  that  I  could  scarcely 
fail  to  greet  her  with  equal  warmth. 

"Well,  mon  cher,"  said  the  Comtesse,  seating  herself, 
giving  me  a  delicate  blow  with  her  roman,  and  signing 
me  to  a  chair  by  her,  "  so  you  have  kept  your  appoint- 
ment, and  come  to  see  me  ?" 

"Do  you  suppose  any  man  could  fail  to  come  and  see 
you  if  you'd  let  him  ?"  said  I,  thinking  to  myself  what  a 
deucedly  pretty  woman  she  was  without  her  bonnet. 

"  Ah,  beta  !  you  have  been  long  enough  without  com- 
ing to  see  me,"  laughed  madame.  "It  was  very  shabby 
of  you,  caro,  to  run  off  from  Ems  as  you  did !" 

"  Eun  off  from  Ems !  Decidedly  the  little  woman's 
mad,"  thought  I. 

"We  were  very  happy  at  Ems,  caro  !"  sighed  madame, 
with  a  pretty  pathetic  air.  "  Isn't  it  a  pity  that  beau 
jours  like  those  won't  last  for  ever?" 

Of  course  I  answered  her  suitably,  to  the  effect  that 
any  days  in  her  society  must  be  the  plus  beaux  jours  of 
his  life  to  any  man,  and  our  tete-a-tete  was  going  on  a 
ravir.  I  was  completely  bewildered  by  her  constant  ref- 
erences to  a  past  with  which  I  ought  to  have  been  as  well 


310  HOW  I  WAS  TRACKED   EY   TRAPPERS. 

acquainted  as  she,  but  of  which  I  could  not,  for  the  life  of 
ine,  remember  a  word:  but,  as  I  said  before,  she  was  far 
too  pretty  a  woman  for  any  man  to  disclaim  a  friendship 
she  claimed  with  him,  and  we  we  going  on  a  ravir,  when 
every  nerve  in  my  system  received  as  violent  a  galvanic 
shock  as  ever  any  luckless  rus  in  urbe  received  at*  the 
Polytechnic,  and  I  started  as  though  the  most  horrible 
douche  that  ever  the  water  cure  gave  to  any  victim  sur- 
rendered to  its  grasp  had  struck  me  with  an  arm  of  ice, 
when  my  little  comtesse,  looking  at  me  under  her  fringed 
lashes,  and  closing  her  soft  wann  hand  on  mine,  whis- 
pered, sweetly, 

"  Mon  cher !  would  it  be  inconvenient  to  you  to  pay  me 
those  seven  thousand  francs  you  lost  to  me  at  ecarte  last  Au- 
gust?" 

I  am  a  cool  fellow  generally,  I  believe;  used  to  flatter 
myself  that  nothing  could  startle  me ;  that  if  I  possessed 
nerves  in  common  with  the  rest  of  humanity,  they  were 
of  that  texture  commonly  denominated  cast  iron;  but  I 
can  say  so  no  longer,  for  when  the  Comtesse  spoke  those 
words,  a  child,  had  there  been  one  in  the  room  disposed 
to  so  pugilistic  an  enterprise,  might  have  knocked  me 
down.  Plon-plon's  fit  of  eloquence  could  not  surprise 
France,  nor  their  sudden  notoriety  bewilder  the  Bishop 
of  Durham  and  his  beau-fils,  nor  the  Seven  Essayists' 
free  speech  amaze  the  legend-loving  Church,  more  ut- 
terly than  Madame  de  Coquelicot's  speech  surprised,  be- 
wildered, and  horrified  me.  I  stared  at  her,  and  mechan- 
ically re-echoed,  "  Seven  thousand  francs — I — lost — to 
you!" 

She  shook  her  head  at  me,  and  gave  me  another  re- 
buking blow  with  Le  Bran's  yellow  volume. 

"Ah,  mechant!  Do  you  pretend  to  forget  it?  Fi 
done  !  for  shame !     You  recollect  well  enough !" 


HOW  I    WAS   TRACKED   BY  TRAPPERS.  311 


"  On  my  honor,  madame- 


She  shook  her  head  again,  and  laughed,  gaily  : 

"Ah,  hon  Dieu!  your  honor,  inon  cher,  is  not  a  very 
wonderful  witness.  If  you've  no  better  gage  than  your 
honor,  rnon  garcon " 

This  was  going  a  little  bit  too  far:  we  do  let  women 
say  more  than  men,  but  there  are  limits  to  one's  allow- 
ance even  to  the  female  tongue.  I  shook  off  her  hand, 
and  got  out  of  the  chair. 

"  Madame,  you  do  not  know  what  you  are  saying,  nor 
can  you,  I  think,  know  whom  you  are  addressing.  There 
must  be  some  very  extraordinary  mistake  here.  On  my 
word,  as  a  gentleman,  I  never " 

But  she  interrupted  me  with  peals  of  laughter. 

"  That  will  do,  tres  cher !  You  do  not  know  what  you 
are  saying,  or  you  would  scarcely  try  to  talk  that  non- 
sense to  me.  You  will  say  you  never  played  ecarte  at  all 
with  me,  I  suppose,  next  ?" 

"  To  the  best  of  my  knowledge,  I  decidedly  never  did, 
madame.  I  repeat,  again,  that  you  are  speaking  under 
some  very  extraordinary  delusion." 

"  Do  be  quiet,  becasse;  you  make  me  laugh  too  much !" 
cried  the  Comtesse,  beginning  to  look  rather  angry, 
though  with  a  nasty  glitter  in  her  eyes,  beating  an  im- 
patient tattoo  with  her  spoon  on  the  Sevres  saucer.  You 
may  generally  know  your  suppressed  vixen  by  that  sort 
of  angry  rataplan:  she  beats  an  inanimate  object  when 
she  would  love,  if  she  could,  to  be  beating  you.  "  I  like 
you  very  much,  mon  ami,  but  I  did  not  like  your  running 
off  from  Ems  in  my  debt,  and  I  don't  like  your  pre- 
tence of  ignorance  now.  I  shn.ll  be  very  glad  if  you  will 
pay  me  those  seven  thousand  francs  without  delay,  for 
I  am  extravagant — comme  vous  savez  bien — and  they 
will  nil  up  a  little  gap  nicely." 


312  HOW   I   WAS   TRACKED   BY   TRAPPEES. 

"But,  by  Heaven,  I  owe  you  none.  I  never  played 
ecarte  with  you  in  my  life.  I  was  never  at  Ems  last 
August " 

"  Hush,  hush,  hush !"  cried  madame,  her  tattoo  get- 
ting fiercer  and  her  laugh  louder.  "  What  will  you  say 
next  ?  Never  played  ecarte  !  never  at  Ems !  Grand 
Dieu !  what  next  ?" 

"Anything  you  like,  madame;  and,  first  of  all,  that  I 
am  not  a  boy  to  be  tricked  in  this  way,  and  be  frightened 
into  paying  a  debt  I  never  contracted.  I  suppose  I  have 
been  fool  enough  to  come  amongst  a  gang  of  swindlers, 
but  I  am  not  so  great  a  one  as  to  stay  amongst  them. 
Another  time,  madame,  try  the  trick  on  some  younger 
bird,  though  it  is  an  adroit  one,  I  admit,  and  allow  me 
to  have  the  honor  of  wishing  you  a  very  good  morning !" 
said  I,  backing  to  the  door,  too  disgusted  with  my  own 
tomfoolery  in  coming  there  at  all  to  remember  courtesy 
or  anything  else.  Tomfoolery,  indeed!  As  I  put  my 
hand  on  the  lock  of  the  door  I  found  it  was  fastened  on 
the  other  side,  and  that  I,  who  ought  to  have  known  bet- 
ter than  to  have  come  there  at  all,  was,  as  I  richly  de- 
served to  be,  a  prisoner  in  the  Comtesse  de  Coquelicot's 
dra  wing-room. 

She  nodded  her  head  with  devilish  delight,  laughing 
again,  though  her  dark  eyes  scintillated  angrily. 

"  The  windows  are  twenty  feet  from  the  ground,  mon 
cher.  Ah  !  becasse,  now  we  have  caught  you  again,  do 
you  think  we  should  be  so  silly  as  to  let  you  go  so  easily  ? 
Have  you  quite  forgotten  all  those  little  bills  and  bonds 
at  Ems,  caro  ?" 

"  Bills  and  bonds  !"  I  repeated,  contemptuously.  "  On 
my  life,  this  is  carrying  the  farce  too  far !  You  mistake. 
I  am  not  your  victim,  madame,"  said  I,  only  keeping  my- 
self cool  by  recollecting  my   combatant  was  a  woman. 


HOW  I  WAS  TRACKED  BY  TEAPPEES.  313 

"  I  shall  be  obliged  by  your  putting  an  end  to  this,  and 
ordering  your  servants  to  unlock  this  door.     I  presume 

you  are  aware  that  by  detaining  me  thus,  the  law " 

"The  law!  Ah!  you  wish  for  the  law.  C'estbien!" 
cried  madame,  clapping  her  plump  and  jewelled  hands. 
I  suppose  it  was  a  preconcerted  signal,  for  a  door  I 
had  not  noticed  at  the  other  end  of  the  salon  opened 
softly,  and  a  man  curled  and  ringed,  a  Jew  all  over,  came 
noiselessly  in,  with  another  insignificant  fellow,  neither 
of  whom  had  I  ever  seen  before,  and,  coming  up  to  me 
and  laying  his  hand  on  my  shoulder,  the  latter  whispered 
the  lively  and  agreeable  information, 

"  Monsieur,  in  the  name  of  the  law,  I  arrest  you." 
"  Arrest  me  !  The  deuce !  What  for  ?" 
"For  the  several  sums  of  seven  thousand  francs, 
twenty  thousand  francs,  and  fifteen  thousand  francs, 
borrowed  in  the  months  of  June,  July,  and  August, 
from  Alcicle  Mathieu,"  began  the  fellow,  with  such  abom- 
inable legal  precision  and  audacity  that,  a  la  David,  the 
fire  kindled  and  I  spake  more  furiously  than  perchance 
was  prudent. 

Shaking  off  his  grasp  with  a  jerk  that  span  him  off 
into  the  middle  of  the  room,  "  What  the  deuce  do  you 
mean  by  this  tomfoolery  ?  I  owe  nobody  a  sou,  and  you 
know  that  as  well  as  I  do.  You  are  a  league  of  rascally 
sharpers,  but  if  you  fancy  to  trap  or  frighten  me  into 
admitting  your  charges  and  letting  you  pick  my  pockets, 
you  are  exceedingly  mistaken.  You  are  a  gang  of  swin- 
dlers, and  as  such  I  will  cite  you  before  the " 

"  Oh,  l'effronte !"  shrieked  Madame  de  Coquelicot. 
"  Mon  dieu !  who  could  think  any  living  mortal 
could    have     such     audacious     impudence,     when    he 

knovis " 

"Knows!"  chuckled  the  individual  of  jewels  and  curls, 
14 


314  HOW   I   WAS   TRACKED   BY  TRAPPERS. 

who  I   conjectured   was   the  aforesaid   Alcide   Mathieu. 
"Some thing  he  will  know  when " 

"  Doucement,  doucement,  madame,"  said  the  miniature 
Vidocq,  who,  having  got  me  into  the  griffes  of  the  law, 
was  scarcely  going  to  let  me  off  so  easily,  "  Take  care,  or 
you  will  commit  yourself  for  libel  as  well.  Diantre!" 
said  he,  turning  to  me,  "  it  is  of  no  use  resisting.  Come, 
monsieur,  do  not  oblige  me  to  make  a  scene.  Come 
with  me  quietly,  like  a  gentleman.  You  have  given  us  a 
great  deal  of  trouble.  If  you  would  have  settled  these 
little  matters  privately  with  Monsieur  Mathieu  six 
months  ago " 

The  cool  impudence  of  the  fellow  positively  stunned 
me.  I,  who  had  never  seen  any  one  of  them  in  my  life, 
to  be  told  I  had  given  them  a  great  deal  of  trouble,  that 
I  should  have  settled  these  little  matters — little  matters, 
forsooth  ! — six  months  ago !  I,  who  flattered  myself  that 
I  was  a  cool  hand,  and  knew  life,  if  anybody  knew  it,  to 
have  let  myself  be  trapped  into  this  by  that  little  demon, 
De  Coquelicot !  The  devil  within  me  was  roused,  and 
nothing  short  of  knocking  them  all  down  would  have 
cooled  me  in  the  least.  As  the  fellow  came  up  to  lay  his 
hand  on  me  again,  I  set  my  back  to  the  door  and  pre- 
pared to  receive  them  scientifically. 

"If  you  attempt  to  lay  a  hand  on  me  again  I  shall 
knock  you  down.  You  are  a  gang  of  swindlers,  and  if 
you  refuse  to  unlock  the  door,  I  will  throw  open  the  win- 
dow, call  in  the  police,  and  give  you  into  custody " 

"  Ah  ha !  that  is  your  game  !"  said  the  man,  with  a 
smile,  moving  himself  to  the  window  and  giving  a  low 
whistle,  while  M.  Mathieu,  with  a  laugh,  laid  his  grasp 
on  my  arms  to  pinion  them  behind  mc,  and  the  Comtesse 
lay  back  in  her  dormeuse,  laughing  shrilly  in  concert. 
But  that  was  rather  too  much  of  a  good  thing.     There 


HOW   I  WAS   TKACKED   BY  TRAPPERS.  315 

are  limits  to  human  endurance,  and  before  he  could  touch 
me,  I  knocked  him  over  with  a  tap  on  his  face. 

"  Ah  ha !  for  debt,  for  assault,  for  libel,"  murmured 
the  other  man,  with  a  purr  of  enjoyment  at  the  prospect 
of  three  such  charges  combined  against  one  individual, 
as  the  door  behind  me  opened  with  a  jerk  that  made  me 
stagger  forward,  and  I  fell  helpless  into  the  stern  grasp 
of  two  gendarmes,  who,  I  presume,  at  their  command- 
ant's whistle,  had  come  up-stairs  to  cope  with  so  bellicose 
and  restive  a  prisoner. 

"Will  you  go  quietly  now,  monsieur?"  asked  he,  while 
my  soi-distant  creditor  rose  slowly  from  the  floor,  wiping 
the  blood  from  his  face  and  head  with  muttered  oaths  of 
vengeance. 

It  was  no  use  not  going  quietly.      I  didn't  want  to 
blacken  my  name  by  being  shown  up  in  an  assault  like 
some  tipsy  youngster.     It  was  no  earthly  good  talking 
sense  to  these  rascals;  they'd  the  best  of  it  at  present, 
and  the  only  way  to  get  the  game  into  my  own  hands 
was  to  state  the  case  to  some  sensible  judge,  who  would 
give  me  a  hearing  and  listen  to  the  circumstances.     Of 
course,  in  no  court  could  they  make  out  their  case,  and 
it  was  a  perfect  bewilderment  to  me  what  sort  of  game 
they  could  mean  to  be  playing,  or  why  they  should  have 
pounced  upon  me   as  the  victim  of  it — an  Englishman 
only  just  landed  in  France,  of  whom  they  couldn't  pos- 
sibly know  anything.     So  I  went  quietly,  and  the  whole 
of  the  Rue  Belphegor-et-Melusine,  from  the  sixieme  to 
the  rez-de-chausee  of  each  domicile,  appeared  to  me  to 
have  turned  out   to   witness   my  convoy  by  gendarmes. 
There  were  ladies  opening  the  jalousies  to  peep  at  me, 
children  running  out  on  the  balconies  to  laugh  at  me, 
gamins  loitering  in  the  gutters  to  make  fun  of  me,  grim 
porters    coming  to   the   grilles   to   stare   at   me,    while 


316  HOW  I  WAS  TRACKED   BY  TRAPPERS. 

I  swore  sotto  voce  like  a  trooper  at  my  own  con- 
founded folly  in  letting  myself  be  trapped  by  that  odious 
little  Coquelicot,  when  there  were  fifty  handsomer 
women  in  Paris,  too !  into  such  a  ridiculous  and  appar- 
ently inextricable  a  scrape.  However,  I  went  quietly, 
not  exactly  enjoying  my  new  position,  but  making  the 
best  of  it  with  Tapleyan  philosophy,  consoling  myself 
with  the  reflection  that  I  should  scarcely  be  put  out  of 
the  world,  like  Mrs.  Dombey,  without  making  an  effort, 
and  that  I,  an  Englishman,  with  friends  by  the  dozen 
among  the  French  noblesse  and  at  the  British  Legation, 
would  scarcely  let  myself  be  treated  in  this  style  without 
kicking  up  a  dust  about  it,  even  if  that  dust  were  the 
whirlwind  that  should  blow  up  the  Anglo-French  alliance. 
It  was  three  o'clock  before  I  was  taken  into  court, 
where,  or  by  what  rules,  on  my  life  I  hardly  know  now,  it 
was  so  bewildering  an  affair  that  I  took  little  note  of  par- 
ticulars. The  interval  was  passed  by  me  as  you,  my  sym- 
pathetic reader,  can  easily  imagine,  in  much  such  a  state 
of  virtuous  indignation  as  the  Z.  G.  Hon  exhibits  when  his 
keeper  makes  him  wait  too  long  for  his  dinner.  There 
were  my  accusers:  the  fat  man  with  the  jewels  and  curls, 
desperately,  villainously  Jewish,  with  a  bandage  on  his 
forehead,  which  afforded  me  fiendish  delight;  there  was 
pretty,  gaily  dressed,  highly  rouged  Madame  de  Coque- 
licot, as  witness,  I  suppose;  there  was  my  old  man  of  the 
steamer;  there  was  the  wine  merchant's  agent;  there 
was  the  tailor  and  his  emissary;  there  was  everybody  ar- 
rayed in  grim  and  inexorable  array;  and  there  was  I, 
charged  there  with  debt,  assault,  and  libel.  Wasn't  it 
pleasant?  and,  for  the  commencement  of  a  first  day  in 
Paris,  hadn't  it  a  nice  couleur  de  rose  aspect  ?  How  bit- 
terly I  swore  at  myself!  Surely  those  oaths  were  as  par- 
donable, under  the  circumstances,  as  Uncle  Toby's! 


HOW  I   WAS   TRACKED   BY  TRAPPERS.  317 

I'd  never  been  in  a  French  court  in  my  life.  I  didn't 
know  who  was  who,  nor  how  the  proceedings  were  likely 
to  commence.  Somebody-5— I  think  the  judge — eyed  me 
fiercely.  I  dare  say  he  thought  me  a  hardened  sinner; 
perhaps  he'd  been  a  refugee  in  his  time,  and  been  had 
up  at  Bow,  or  Westminster,  and  enjoyed  the  opportunity 
of  retaliating  a  little  on  a  son  of  Albion.  He  began  in  a 
stern  voice: 

"  Vous,  Leonce  Victor  Herve " 


I  put  up  my  eye-glass  and  stared  at  him — an  act  which 
he  seemed  to  consider  an  impertinence.  I  wonder  why. 
I've  put  up  that  self-same  eye-glass  at  some  of  the  best 
women  in  the  peerage,  at  her  Majesty  herself,  lounging 
on  the  rails  or  driving  down  the  Ring,  and  none  of  them 
took  it  as  an  offence. 

"  Hallo,  sir,"  said  I,  "  wait  a  minnte.  That  isn't  my 
name." 

"  Do  not  address  the  court  in  that  impertinent  manner, 
sir.  What  do  you  intend  to  imply  by  so  singular  a  re- 
mark as  that  it  is  '  not  your  name  ?'  " 

"I  mean  what  I  say,  and  there's  nothing  singular  about 
it,"  said  I,  heedless  of  the  indignation  with  which  every- 
body was  regarding  me  for  venturing  to  interrupt  the 
court.  "  It's  not  my  name.  I'm  an  Englishman,  and  am 
called  Leonard  Villiers  Hervey,  as  you  can  see  in  my 
passport;  and  as  my  friends — the  British  ambassador 
himself,  if  you  very  much  prefer  him — will  swear  to  you 
at  any  moment.  I  have  been  brought  here  on  false  pre- 
tences, charged  with  false  debts,  under,  as  I  see  now,  a 
false  name.  It  is  either  a  conspiracy  or  a  case  of  mis- 
taken identity.  In  either  circumstance  I  shall  expect  to 
be  idemnified  for  the  trouble,  annoyance,  and  insult  to 
which  I  have  been  subject  this  morning,  or  shall  I  decid- 
edly complain  to  the  British  Legation  of  the  abominable 


318  HOW  I  WAS  TEACKED   BY  TBAPPEES. 

manner  in  which  a  British  subject  is  liable  to  be  treated 
by  a  gang  of  French  swindlers  the  moment  he  sets  foot 
in  Paris." 

I  hurled  my  words  at  him  in  the  fiercest  passion  I  ever 
was  in  in  my  life.  I  certainly  astonished  an  audience 
then,  if  anybody  ever  did.  The  judge  stared,  the  gen- 
darmes stared,  Madame  de  Coquelicot,  the  man  of  curls 
and  rings,  the  wine-merchant,  the  tailor,  everybody  stared 
at  me  in  my  passionate  peroration,  and  I  caught  the  Com- 
tesse's  gasping  whisper: 

"  Qui  aurait  pu  croire  qu'il  y  en  eut  un  autre  qui  res 
semblat  tant  a  Leonce,  et  qu'un  Anglais  put  si  bien  parler 
le  Francais?  Ah  mon  Dieu!  je  vois  trop  tard  que  ses 
yeux  sont  gris  au  lieu  d'etre  bleus!" 


It  was  a  case  of  mistaken  identity,  luckily  not  so  fatal 
to  life  or  reputation  as  such  a  case  has  been  more  than 
once  to  some  poor  devil  pulled  up  for  a  chance  resem- 
blance to  another  spirit  worse  off  than  himself.  Two  of 
my  best  friends— one  French,  one  English — to  whom  I 
had  sent,  entered  just  at  that  minute,  and  corroborated 
my  statement,  which  after  some  delay  and  trouble,  with 
sight  of  my  passport,  sufficed  to  clear  me  from  the  charge 
of  M.  Leonce  Victor  Herve's  debts,  though  I  am  bound 
to  say  that  the  vigilant  gentleman  before  whom  I  had 
been  brought  was  desperately  reluctant  to  let  me  go,  and 
as  intensely  anxious  to  make  me  in  the  wrong,  if  he  any 
way  could,  as  any  lady  to  talk  away  the  character  of  her 
pet  friend,  or  democrat  to  saddle  a  nobleman  with  all  the 
sins  of  the  Decalogue,  and  wouldn't  let  me  off  till  he'd 
gone  into  it  all  from  beginning  to  end,  about  fifty-six 
several  times,  in  an  examination  which,  frightfully  as  it 
bored  me,  afforded  me  much  unchristian  delight,  by  the 


HOW  I  WAS   TRACKED   BY  TRAPPERS.  319 

evident  torture  it  was  to  iny  persecutors,  whose  characters 
were  probably  not  such  as  to  render  legal  investigation 
highly  acceptable.     It   seemed  that  M.  Mathieu  was   a 
money-lender,  brother  to  Madame  Coquelicot,  a  widow, 
but  not  of  a  Count;  that  in  the  August  before,  at  Ems,  a 
luckless  fellow  had  borrowed  of  the  one,  been  bewitched 
by  the  other,  and,  I  presume,  been  so  driven  to  despera- 
tion between  them  that  he  had  cut  the  concern,  and  fled 
unseen  from  Ems,  owing  the  little  widow  his  play  debts, 
and  her   brother   several  sums,  which  M.  Mathieu  had 
lent  him,  knowing  him  to  be  a  man  of  some  fortune,  and 
for  which  he  held  his  I.  O.  U.s  and  bonds.     They  were 
sharps,  sans  doute,  but  probably  M.   Herve  must  have 
been  rather  a  disreputable  fellow  too,  and  their  anxiety 
had  naturally  been  to  catch  him  again  and  sue  him.     The 
little  fellow  on  board  the  steamer  was  a  man  sometimes 
employed  by  them  to  hunt  down  their  lost  prey,  and  who, 
when  he  saw  me  on  board  the  Lord  Warden,  with  a  meer- 
schaum and  a  Maude,  like  those  M.  Herve  was  in  the 
habit   of  sporting,    duly  notified   the   fact    to   Madame 
below  in  the  cabin,  who,  coming  on  board,  recognised  me 
at  once  as  she  thought,  and  set  her  little  wits  to  work  to 
enthral  me  in  her  fascinations  till  M.  Mathieu  should  have 
legal  traps  ready,  settingthe  old  man  to  watch  me  wher- 
ever  I  went,  who,   in   turn,  apprised   a  wine-merchant 
and  a  tailor  of  my  arrival,  whom  he  knew  to  be  creditors 
of  poor  Herve,  receiving,  of  course,  a  per  centage  for  his 
information.     So  ran  the  story,  simply  enough,  intensely 
as  it  had  bewildered  me,  as  it  still  bewildered  Madame 
Coquelicot,  who  could  do  nothing  during  the  examination 
but  sniff  at  her  flacon,  and  murmur,  in  humiliation,  "  Mon 
Dieu,  comme  j'ai  ete  bete  !     Pourquoi  n'ai-je  pas  remar- 
que  que  ses  yeux  etaient  gris  ?     Mais  la  ressemblance  est 
extraordinaire  tout  le  meme  ?" 


320  HOW  I  WAS   TRACKED   BY  TRAPPERS. 

They  sued  me  for  assault,  and  I  bad  to  pay  M.  Mathieu 
something  heavy  for  the  pleasure  of  knocking  him  down; 
but  I  sued  them  for  false  imprisonment,  so  I  had  a  quid 
jyro  quo,  and  we  were  quits.  My  fellow  sufferer,  with  a 
Maude,  a  meerschaum,  and  a  face  like  mine,  I  have  never 
seen  to  my  knowledge.  I  have  given  you  noms  de  plume, 
pour  cause;  but  I  look  eagerly  out  in  the  streets,  at 
the  clubs,  at  the  Opera,  in  the  parks,  anywhere  and  every- 
where, for  anybody  that  may  bear  a  resemblance  to  me, 
for  I  have  a  keen  sympathy  with  M.  L.  V.  Herve;  I  can 
exactly  fancy  how  that  little  demon  of  a  Coquelicot  be- 
witched and  robbed  him,  poor  fellow,  as  she'd  have  be- 
witched and  robbed  me  if  she'd  had  the  chance;  and  if 
any  gentleman  reads  this  who  owns  a  pipe  with  a  grin- 
ning faun's  head,  who  fell  among  thieves  at  Ems,  and  play- 
ed too  much  ecarte  with  a  charming  little  woman  with  a 
nez  retrousse  and  bright  marmoset  eyes,  I  shall  be  very 
happy  to  make  his  acquaintance  and  condole  with  him 
and  tell  him  farther  particulars,  viva  voce,  of  How  I  was 
tracked  by  Trappers,  in  a  case  of  mistaken  identity,  and 
the  Evils  that  came  from  a  Maude  and  a  Meerschaum, 
innocent  things  enough,  in  their  way,  Heaven  knows  ! 

N.  B.  I  learnt  one  lesson — learn  it,  too,  ami  lecteur: 
When  Ulysses  is  travelling,  he'd  better  keep  to  his  Times, 
his  Bradshaw,  and  his  pipe,  wrap  himself  in  his  plaid, 
and  not  let  himself  be  brought  out  by  the  fairest  Calypso, 
however  dainty  her  cream-colored  gloves,  however  be- 
witching her  syren  voice.  But  I  fancy  the  advice  is  per- 
haps superfluous.  Britons  are  safe  enough  to  be  sdent 
on  a  journey,  and  put  all  their  porcupine  quills  out — even 
to  a  woman! 


TRENTE-ET-UN. 


TRENTE-ET-UN; 


OB, 


TWO    KIVALS. 


I. 

THE   ACQUArNTACE   I    MADE   EST    THE    TKATN    TO    BADEN. 

We  had  just  stopped  at  Epernay  to  take  the  customary 
glass  of  champagne. 

"Wretched  stuff,  isn't  it?"  said  my  sole  compagnon 
de  voyage. 

"Abominable!  as  bad  as  the  worst  gooseberry  ever 
palmed  off  with  an  unblushing  Sillery  seal  and  an  exor- 
bitant price  by  that  upright  and  incorruptible  class  the 
British  merchant,"  I  answered,  laughing,  and  looking  at 
him  for  the  first  time. 

He  was  a  fine-looking  fellow,  probably  about  thirty  s 
with  golden-colored  hair  and  regular  features,  that  would 
have  charmed  Lavater  save  for  a  something,  one  could 
hardly  say  what,  that  told  a  physiognomy  of  irresolution. 
With  a  vacillating  man  I  never  had  any  patience  yet. 
If  Esau  choose  to  be  foolish  and  sell  his  birthright  (and 
when  you  are  hungry  I  can  quite  fancy  a  savory  mess 


324  TEENTE-ET-im;   OR,  TWO   HIYALS. 

being  more  attractive  than  an  indefinite  heritage,)  I  like 
him  to  do  it  with  a  dash  and  a  spirit  and  a  will  of  his 
own,  not  to  stand  shilly-shallying  between  the  two,  han- 
kering after  the  one,  yet  wondering  whether  the  other 
is  not  better,  till  all  steam  and  flavor  is  gone  out  of  his 
mess,  and,  like  the  dog  of  iEsopian  fame,  he  loses  both 
meats  in  that  fathomless  river  which  washes  wavering 
purposes  far  away  into  that  bottomless  sea,  v.  here  idle 
regrets  he  buried  never  to  be  recalled. 

He  laughed. 

"What  class  is  upright  and  incorruptible?  Not  the 
much-vaunted  middle  class,  I  am  sure.  If  we  want 
swindles,  frauds,  and  unlawful  extortions,  we  must  go, 
then,  for  most  of  them  to  the  manufacturers,  who  lecture 
on  'Probity '  at  the  Mechanics'  Institute,  and  grind  their 
Hands  down  to  destitution  and  a  strike;  the  parsons, 
wTho  trade  in  livings  against  their  ordination  oaths,  and 
weep  in  their  pulpits  as  our  actors  on  their  boards,  to 
draw  crowded  houses — I  mean  churches;  the  great  sur- 
geons, who  sentimentalise  at  committees  over  the  good 
they  are  permitted  to  do,  the  suffering  Heaven  allows, 
them  to  alleviate,  and  operate,  knowing  it  will  be  useless 
and  fatal,  just  to  pocket  the  hundred-pound  fee.  If  the 
middle  class  is  so  beautifully  moral,  'tis  a  pity  it  isn't  a 
trifle  more  honest.     Do  you  smoke?     Try  one  of  these." 

"  Thank  you.  Tou're  going  to  Baden,  I  suppose,  as 
lam?" 

"Yes,  it's  the  Queen  of  Bads,  isn't  it?  One  can't  tire 
of  Baden ;  those  two  poplars  at  its  entrance  are  two  sen- 
tinels that  won't  let  in  the  wrorry  and  boredom  of  the 
work-a-day  world  into  its  Armida's  gardens." 

"  No,  but  it's  a  pity  some  of  its  golden  apples  are 
rather  Dead  Sea  fruit,"  said  I,  laughing.  "  One  can't 
help  obeying  that  witching  mandate  'Faites  votre  jeu,' 


TRENTE-ET-IJN  ;   OP.,  TWO   RIVALS.  325 

but  one. pays  a  devil  of  a  price  for  those  confounded  lit- 
tle cards  sometimes." 

A  certain  impatient  shade  went  over  his  face,  as  if  he, 
too,  had  paid  a  devil  of  a  price  to  that  Circe  that  lurks 
under  the  tempting  green  tables,  but  he  laughed. 

"  Well,  is  there  any  pleasure  for  which  one  doesn't  pay 
some  time  or  other  ?  Montaigne  says,  on  the  footsteps 
of  every  enjoyment  there  follows  a  satiety  that  looks 
almost  like  penitence;  but  satiety's  better  than  monotony 
without  excitement.  Don't  you  think  so  ?  It  would  be 
better  of  the  two  to  die  in  one's  cups  than  of  hypochon- 
dria.   I  would  rather  have  been  Dick  Steele  than  Cowper." 

"  Certainly  I  do.  I  like  my  curry  hot,  and  wouldn't 
give  a  rush  for  it  without  plenty  of  sauce  picpiante;  en 
meme  temps,  there's  a  medium  between  no  pepper  at  all 
and  such  a  lot  of  cayenne  that  it  excoriates  one's  throat." 

"Perhaps.  But  when  one  has  the  sauce  piquante,  as 
you  call  it,  in  one's  hands,  one's  very  apt  to  take  too  much 
of  it.  I  defy  anybody  to  stand  quietly  by  in  the  Kursaal, 
and  help  backing  the  colors;  and,  if  one  pays  as  you  say, 
one  pays  for  excitement,  and  that  is  worth  more  than 
most  of  the  things  we  buy,  and  our  gaming's  not  worse 
in  its  effects  than  that  gambling  legitimised  in  England 
and  patronised  in  the  Stock  Exchange.  We  only  ruin 
ourselves;  those  great  gamesters  may  involve  thousands. 
Ah,  here  are  the  black  and  white  bars.  "We've  crossed  the 
Kehl,  then.     We  shan't  be  long  before  we  reach  Ooes." 

"  Are  you  in  a  hurry  to  get  to  Baden  ?"  I  asked,  inno- 
cently. 

He  smiled  a  little  consciously,  I  thought. 

"Oh,  no;  but  I  am  expected  there  for  dinner  at  seven, 
hat  is  all,  at  the  Badischer  Hof." 

"  By  some  fair  lady,  sans  doute,  or  you,  wouldn't  be  in 
such  a  deuce  of  a  hurry  to  get  over  the  ground  so  fast," 


323  TRENTE-ET-UN  J  OR,  TWO   RIVALS. 

thought  I,  as  he  lapsed  into  silence,  smoking  his  Manilla 
and  turning  over  the  leaves  of  a  Galignani.  I  liked  him: 
I  have  a  knack  of  liking  people  at  first  sight,  which  has 
led  me  into  a  good  many  pitfals  before  now,  but  of  which 
I  shall  never  break  myself,  I  believe,  to  my  grave.  He 
interested  me,  I  did  not  know  why,  and  when  he  offered 
me  a  seat  in  the  carriage  that  waited  for  him  at  the  sta- 
tion, as  I  was  going,  too,  to  the  Badiscjier  Hof,  I  accept- 
ed it  willingly,  though  we  Englishmen  are  as  shy  of  chance 
acquaintances  as  a  rat  of  a  lurcher,  and  freeze  ourselves 
into  statues  at  a  moment's  notice  if  we  are  insulted  by  a 
civility  from  somebody  we  "  don't  know." 

"Pray  don't  thank  me.  I  am  most  happy  to  have 
brought  you  here.  G-ood-by.  We  shall  meet  at  the 
Kursaal  or  the  Conversation,  or  somewhere,  to-morrow," 
he  said,  as  he  turned  to  a  waiter.  "  Quels  sont  les 
appartemens  de  Lord  Trevanion  ?  montrez-les  moi;"  and 
went  quickly  up  the  stairs.  I  followed  him,  the  rooms  I 
had  bespoken  lying  in  the  same  direction,  and  as  the 
man  threw  open  the  door  for  him  of  one  of  the  salons,  I 
saw  a  woman  rise  and  meet  him  with  an  exclamation  of 
delight.  I  was  right  as  to  the  cause  of  his  impatience 
to  reach  Baden,  and  I  laughed,  as  I  dressed,  to  think 
how  secure  we  are  to  guess  aright  if  at  the  bottom  of 
every  weakness,  mischief,  madness,  or  folly,  one  suspects 
— a  woman ! 

It  was  one  of  Baden's  fullest  seasons.  Boyal  princes 
were  as  plentiful  as  trout  in  April,  and  cabinet  ministers 
in  degage  morning  toilettes  took  it  easy  for  once  in  the 
year;  statesmen,  ministers,  and  literati,  be  "ted  at  the 
Jockey  Club,  punted  at  the  roulette-table,  chatted  with 
Vivier,  and  jested  at  Emile  de  Girardin's.  There  were 
the  handsomest  women  of  the  Belgravian  haute  vohe, 
und  the  most  charming  of  the  "  societe  Francaise."     M. 


TRENTE-ET-UN  ;  OR,   TWO   RIVALS.  327 

Benazet's  ingenuity  was  taxed  to  the  utmost  to  furni  :i 
every  divertissement  that  could  be  devised;  and  in  the 
land  of  sunshine,  music,  gaiety,  and  fashion,  a  bona  fide 
invalid,  carrying  a  burden,  of  dyspepsia  or  phthisis, 
would  have  looked  as  out  of  place  as  a  theological  article 
in  a  lively  magazine,  or  those  new  glass  trucks  of  Bibles, 
with  their  vendors  shouting  texts  as  the  tinman  calls 
"Muff-eens!"  or  the  gardeners  "  Buy  flors  all  a  blawin  !" 
as  we  see  them  just  now  in  our  London  streets, 
thanks  to  Exeter  Hall,  who,  though  it  hisses  theatres 
and  calls  their  managers  servants  of  Satan,  is  not  above 
copying  their  mode  of  placard  and  advertisement. 

Baden  was  full,  and  I  met  plenty  of  people  I  knew  in 
the  Conversation  the  morning  after  I  arrived.  Almost 
one  of  the  first  I  saw  was  my  fellow-traveller,  whom  I 
encountered  on  the  staircase,  with  the  lady  of  whose  wel- 
come of  him  I  had  caught  a  glimpse,  and  in  whom  I  re- 
cognised Eva  Boville,  an  intimate  friend  of  my  sister's,  a 
daughter  of  old  Trevanion's,  who,  it  seemed,  was  just 
recently  engaged  to  the  man  whom  I  had  met  in  the 
train.  He  was  one  of  the  Chesteriields  of  Dorset,  a  fam- 
ily as  proud  as  Lucifer  but  as  poor  as  beggars,  who  had 
lost  their  coronet  fighting  for  the  "  White  Rose  and  the 
long  heads  of  hair"  with  Derwent-water  and  Dundee. 
He  was  an  attache  to  one  of  our  legations;  a  fellow  that 
won  on  you  strangely,  I  couldn't  tell  you  why,  a  mixture 
of  sweetness  and  recklessness,  of  gay  spirits  and  extreme 
depression,  that  never  made  you  certain  of  what  mood 
you  would  find  him  in,  and  yet  made  you  like  him  in 
all,  against  your  better  sense,  and  be  as  tender  over,  and 
tolerant  of  him  as  you  would  be  of  a  woman.  His  was  a 
love-engagement,  that  was  plain  to  see.  He  loved  Eva 
Boville,  I  believe,  as  dearly  as  a  man  could;  he  was 
proud  of  her,  of  having  won  her,  with  her  beauty,  her 


328  trente-et-un;  oe,  two  rivals. 

grace,  her  birth;  he  was  never  weary  of  her  society;  he 
cared  for  no  other  woman,  and  the  greatest  beauties  in 
Baden  passed  by  hini  unnoticed.  But  there  was  one 
thing  I  fancied  he  loved  as  dearly,  perhaps  more  dearly 
than  he  did  her,  and  that  was  the  fatal  syren,  the 
charmed  Circe,  the  resistless  fairy,  who  beckons  us  to  the 
green  tables,  and  hands  us  a  cup  that,  if  we  taste  it,  we 
cannot  set  down,  as  delicious  as  brandy,  as  seductive  as 
opium,  as  dangerous  as  absinthe — the  Circe  that  lies  in 
the  whirl  of  the  Roulette  and  the  chances  of  Trente-et- 
Un.  She  had  no  rival  in  her  own  sex,  but  I  fancied  she 
had  one  in  the  all-seductive  syren  of  Chance,  that  sits 
behind  the  croupier's  elbow  in  the  gas-lit  salons  of  the 
KursaaL     I  was  but  too  right! 

"  Don't  go  to  the  gaining-rooms,  Cyril,"  I  heard  her 
whisper  to  him,  that  night,  in  the  ball-room  at  the  Kur- 
saaL 

He  laughed :  "  Why,  my  dearest  ?" 
"  I  don't  know;  I  can  give  you  no  good  reason,  perhaps; 
but  I  have  a  horror  of  them.  One  of  my  uncles,  years 
ago,  when  there  were  hells  in  St.  James's-street,  gamed 
away  all  his  fortune  at  Bouge-et-Noir,  and  shot  himself 
in  despair." 

"  I  won't  make  so  tragic  an  ending,"  laughed  Chester- 
field, though  he  gave  a  half-shudder  as  she  spoke.  "  He 
hadn't  what  I  have  to  bind  him  to  life.  I  could  never 
despair  while  I  have  you." 

"But  do  promise  me — do.  I  never  tease  you  about 
anything — but  if  you  would  promise  me  this  !" 

He  looked  fondly  down  into  her  eyes,  but  shook  his 
head,  laughingly.  "  Xo,  I  am  not  fond  of  promising.  I 
would  never  break  promises;  and  one  can  never  be  sure 
how  far  one  may  be  able  to  keep  them.  There  is  the 
music  again — are  you  ready?" 


TKENTE-ET-UN ;  OR,  TWO   RIVALS.  329 

He  whirled  her  round  in  a  waltz,  and  I  dare  say  soon 
made  her  forget  his  refusal.  Women,  at  one  kind  word, 
forgive  us  fifty  unkind  ones,  and,  like  spaniels,  lick  our 
hands  for  a  single  caress,  and  pass  over  all  the  blows 
before  it.  He  put  her  into  her  carriage  very  tenderly 
that  night,  and  bent  his  head  for  a  farewell  touch  of  her 
lips  as  he  gave  her  her  fan,  and  stood  looking  after  her 
as  they  drove  away;  but,  ten  minutes  after,  he  joined  us, 
and  was  punting  at  the  roulette  with  reckless  eagerness. 
Oh,  the  women  who  trust  us  !  it's  well  for  them  they 
don't  see  us  when  their  backs  are  turned!  Fair  amie 
lectrice,  when  you  lay  your  glossy  head  on  your  pillow, 
picturing  your  dearly  beloved  Charlie  smoking  a  solitary 
cigar,  looking  at  your  photograph  by  the  starlight,  and 
dedicating  all  his  midnight  thoughts  to  you,  if  you  could 
but  see  how  he  passes  the  small  hours,  and  how  very 
agreeably  he  can  console  himself  for  your  absence,  I  won- 
der if  you'd  give  him  such  a  sweet  smile  when  you  hear 
his  step  on  the  staircase  next  day  ?  But,  soyez  tranquille- 
Charlie  may  love  you  very  well  for  all  that;  it  is  only 
that  the  leopard  cannot  change  his  spots,  and  you,  being 
a  little  lamb,  cannot  understand  his  liking  for  lairs  that 
have  no  attraction  for  you. 

Chesterfield  played  recklessly,  but  his  good  and  bad 
fortune  ran  pretty  evenly,  and  he  did  not  lose  much. 

"  Didn't  I  hear  Eva  ask  you  not  to  play  ?"  I  said,  as 
we  left  the  Kursaal  together.  A  rapid  cloud  passed  over 
his  face: 

"  You  did.  She  is  right,  no  doubt :  it  were  wiser,  pos- 
sibly, to  cut  the  place  altogether;  the  infernal  intoxication 
will  get  the  better  of  me  some  day,  and  I  shall  beggar 
myself  to  my  last  sovereign.  But  I  cannot  resist  it  all 
the  same;  the  longing  for  its  excitement  comes  to  me  as 
the  craving  for  drink,  I  suppose,  to  drunkards.     I  don't 


330  TEENTE-ET-UN  J   OE,  TWO   EIYALS. 

care  a  hang  for  the  money  I  win  when  I  have  won  it,  but 
for  the  hazard  I  could  stake  my  life  at  times.  I  would 
not  give  my  promise  to  her  for  worlds;  I  dare  not;  I 
should  break  it  if  I  did." 

"  Yet,"  said  I,  "  I  often  think  what  a  set  of  fools  we 
are  to  fling  our  fortunes  on  the  turn  of  a  wheel,  the 
color  of  a  card.  I  love  play,  like  you;  but,  on  my  life,  it 
might  make  one  shun  it  to  see  those  poor  devils  who 
have  hung  about  the  tables  all  their  days,  who  have  lost 
their  wealth,  and  their  lands,  and  their  peace,  waiting  on 
its  caprices,  yet  still  stand  hovering  there,  playing  the 
game  in  imagination,  hugging  in  fancy,  as  Paid  d'lvoi 
says  somewhere,  the  gold  which  they  haven't  a  shilling 
left  to  try  and  win,  and  hungering  for  the  hazard  to 
which  they  have  lost  all." 

"  True  enough.  And  to  think  one  may  some  day  be 
like  them!" 

I  stared  at  him  and  laughed.  "  You,  vrainient !  I  won- 
der how  Eva  Boville  would  relish  a  ruined  gamester  for 
her  husband !" 

He  turned  very  pale  in  the  gaslight,  and  stopped  me 
impatiently.  "  Hush,  for  Heaven's  sake !  Jests  are  very 
near  truth  sometimes."  Then  he  laughed  that  very  sil- 
very laugh,  that  oughtn't  to  have  had  any  dash  of  bitter- 
ness even  in  it.  "I'm  not  ruined  yet  quite;  and  some 
men  make  very  lucky  coups,  you  know,  at  the  green- 
table.  Good  night,  my  dear  fellow !  How  bright  the 
stars  are ;  brighter  than  oiu*  gaslights !  My  cigar's  gone 
out;  give  me  a  fusee,  will  you?" 


TRENTE-ET-UN  J  OR,  TWO   RIVALS.  331 

II. 

HOW   THE   TWO    RIVALS   FOUGHT   FOR   EMPIRE. 

"Oh!  the  gay  dalliance  of  our  life  in  Egypt!"  as  Cle- 
opatra has  it  in  Mr  Tennyson's  dream  of  fair  women; 
how  pleasantly  the  days  went  by  in  amusing-,  bewitching, 
ever  dear,  never  dull  Baden,  where  we  kept  the  ball  ever 
in  the  air;  and  that  lover  of  good  things,  Catullus  him- 
self, couldn't  have  complained  of  being  bored  if  he'd 
been  amongst  us.  The  creme  de  la  creme  of  Europe, 
from  emperors  to  authors,  from  diplomatists  to  belles, 
had  congregated  there,  and  the  Austrian  band  in  the 
Kioscpie  played  merrily  through  the  summer  days,  and 
the  gaslights  of  the  crowded  Kursaal  burned  bright 
through  the  summer  nights,  and  we  laughed,  and  flirted, 
and  betted,  and  played,  and  left  ennui  and  misanthropy 
behind  us,  for  once,  in  the  light,  pleasant  atmosphere 
of  the  Queen  of  Bads,  where  M.  Benazet  burned  electric 
light  for  the  delectation  of  his  guests,  though  all  the 
rest  of  the  world  might  be  consigned  to  darkness  and 
tallow  candles;  and  with  the  private  theatre,  the  Jockey 
Club,  and  the  Conversation,  Rouge-et-Noir,  Roulette, 
and  a  charming  Comtesse  Clos  de  Vougeot,  who  being  a 
little  Legitimist,  vowed  she  hated  me  for  having  that 
Suisse  parvenu,  that  Empereur  Tibere's  croix  d'honneur, 
but  made  her  hatred  more  pleasant  than  most  people's 
love,  I  enjoyed  that  August  exceedingly.  Staying  myself 
at  the  Badischer  Hof,  where  Chesterfield  had  not  been 
able  to  get  rooms,  I  saw  a  good  deal  of  the  Trevanion 
family,  and  of  him.  Trevanion  himself  was  an  agreea- 
ble fellow,  who  lived  more  than  up  to  his  income,  which 
was  hmited  for  a  peer's;  his  wife  was  equally  pleasant, 


332  TRENTE-ET-UN  ;   OR,  TWO   RIVALS. 

to  my  taste  at  least,  though  some  did  say  she  was 
horridly  proud;  but,  to  be  sure,  they  were  women 
who  were  not  in  her  monde,  and  envied  her  style  (pri- 
vate pique,  mon  ami,  lies  at  the  bottom  of  most  things), 
and  Eva  I  had  known  ever  since  she  was  a  child — she 
was  not  much  more  than  one  in  years  now — and  there 
was  about  her  something  so  soft  and  spirituel  that  you 
would  no  more  have  thought  of  using  her  roughly  than 
of  taking  a  hatchet  to  cut  down  a  harebell.  Chesterfield 
wouldn't,  at  least;  gentle  to  everybody,  he  was  inexpres- 
sibly so  to  her.  There  was  but  one  thing  that  rivalled 
her,  and  held  sovereignty  with  her  over  him — his  other 
idol,  Trente-et-Un.  The  more  I  saw  of  him  the  better  I 
liked  him,  not  that  I  always  sympathised  with  him,  tout 
au  contraire,  he  used  to  make  me  think  angrily  of  "  Un- 
stable as  waters,  thou  shalt  not  prevail;"  there  was  some- 
thing bizarre  and  changeable  that  I  do  not  like  in  anybody, 
yet,  deuce  take  him,  he  fascinated  you,  as  a  woman  might 
who  bewitched  you  against  your  reason,  and  someway 
made  you  like  him,  with  all  his  weaknesses  and  mutations 
of  mood,  more  than  many  better,  or  at  least  more  relia- 
ble men.  It  was  very  queer,  but  he  had  a  sort  of  painful 
interest  for  me :  he  seemed  to  me  one  on  whom  Nature 
had  lavished  all  her  best  gifts,  but  who  would  throw 
them  all  away  and  come  to  grief  somehow.  He  was  a 
great  favorite  of  his  chef,  he  was  the  darling  of  a  very 
exclusive  society;  nobody  in  Baden  would  have  shared 
my  presentiment,  I  dare  say,  who  saw  him  talking  and 
laughing  in  the  Conversation,  exchanging  mots  with  wits, 
or  looking  into  his  fiancee's  eyes  as  he  whirled  her  round 
in  a  waltz,  though  they  might  if  they  had  noticed  him 
when  be  was  backing  the  color,  his  eyes  dark,  his  lips 
white  with  feverish  excitation,  spurred  to  greater  reck- 
lessness if  he  lost,  tempted  to  further  risk  if  he  won,  never 


TKENTE-ET-UN  ;   OE,  TWO   EIYiVLS.  333 

tired  of  the  delicious  excitement,  forgetting  one  love  in 
another  for  the  beckoning  Circe  that  lured  him  in  that 
syren  refrain,"  Faites  votre  jeu,  messieurs !"  Luck  began 
to  run  against  him;  he  lost  more  at  the  Baden  tables 
than  even  a  rich  man  could  well  have  afforded,  and  a  rich 
man  he  was  not. 

"  He  had  a  fine  fortune  ten  years  ago,"  said  a  man  I 
knew,  Powell  of  the  Carbineers,  one  day  in  the  Kursaal. 

"  Who  had?"  said  I.     "  Chesterfield  ?" 

"Yes;  but  he's  made  ducks  and  drakes  of  it.  His 
uncle  left  him  a  good  lot  of  tin,  but  I  don't  fancy  there's 
much  of  it  now.  You  know  he's  such  a  shocking  fellow 
for  play;  games  away  no  end.  It  is  deucedly  tempting, 
but  there's  a  medium  in  all  things." 

There  was  a  medium  for  him — a  cool,  unimpressible, 
philosophic  sort  of  fellow;  but  there  was  none  for  Ches- 
terfield. People  can't  judge  one  another,  how  should 
they  ?  What  sympathy,  I  wonder,  could  Zeno's  ice-cold 
veins  have  for  the  fire  that  flowed  in  Alcibiades'  ?  How, 
possibly,  could  Epicurus,  with  rose  wreaths  on  his  hair, 
and  a  blue-eyed  slave  handing  him  his  opimian,  under- 
stand how  Diogenes,  in  his  most  bearish  moments,  could 
take  pleasure  in  a  tub  and  cabbage-leaves,  in  dirt,  and  a 
dark  lantern  ?  How  could  Hannah  More,  I  should  like 
to  know,  guess  the  most  remotely  at  the  organisation  of 
Heloise?  and  how  could  Pitt,  the  ascetic,  measure  the 
warm  passions  of  Sheridan  or  Fox?  We  see  but  in  a 
glass  darkly,  and  there  only  our  own  reflection,  which 
•sve  look  at  so  long,  and  so  lovingly,  that  any  other  that 
differs  from  it  we  count  as  deformity  or  abortion.  Pow- 
ell couldn't  understand  Chesterfield,  seeing  that  they 
were  as  dissimilar  as  iced  hock  and  burnt  curacao;  but  I 
did,  and  I  saw  that  the  passion  for  play,  which  had 
made  ducks  and  drakes  of  his  fortune,  was  gnawing  in 


33-i  TRENTE-ET-UN ;   OR,  TWO  RIVALS. 

him  still,  and  drawing  him  resistlessly  into  its  charmed 
circle;  that  he  longed  with  all  his  heart  to  break  the  fas- 
cination, but  that  it  held  him  tight,  and  exercised  over 
him  a  stronger  spell  than  any  that  even  Eva  Boville 
could  cast  upon  him.  She  had  a  dangerous  rival;  with 
her  he  would  still  hanker  wistfully  for  the  excitement  of 
the  green  tables;  absorbed  in  Trente-et-Un,  he  gave  no 
thought  to  his  other  love.  And  yet — though  you  won't 
allow  it  my  dear  madame,  I  dare  say — he  did  love  her 
as  fondly,  too,  as  any  man  could. 

"  What  a  fool  I  was  ever  to  come  into  this  accursed 
place  !"  I  heard  him  mutter  to  himself  one  morning, 
after  the  run  of  luck  had  been  dead  against  him.  "  If  I 
hadn't  come  where  gaming  was  I  might  have  kept  to  my 
resolve." 

"  Why  did  you,  then  ?" 

He  turned  quickly;  he  didn't  know  I  was  near  him. 

"  The  Bovilles  were  coming — Eva  bade  me  meet  her 
here;  could  I  tell  her  I  was  such  a  coward  that  I  dare 
not  venture  within  reach  of  temptation  ?" 

"Unpleasant,  sans  doute;  but  mightn't  there  be  equal 
cowardice  (passez-moi  le  mot)  in  not  telling  her?" 

His  face  flushed. 

"Maybe;  it  would  be  right  that  she  should  know  all 
my  weaknesses  and  follies;  perhaps  I  deceive  her  in  con- 
cealing them,  but  I  cannot  destroy  her  ideal  of  me — I 
cannot  be  the  one  to  tell  her  how  weak  a  fool  is  the  man 
she  loves." 

"  And  it's  as  difficult  to  forswear  the  green  tables  ?" 

"  Yes !"  he  said  with  a  bitter  intonation,  that  spoke 
more  than  fifty  asseverations;  and  then  he  laughed,  his 
gay,  musical  laugh.  "  Plato  says  the  gods  created  us  to 
be  their  playthings;  if  so,  ninepins  and  kites  may  surely 
be  allowed  to  be  unstable." 


TKENTE-ET-UN  J   OR,  TWO   RIVALS.  335 

"  But  you've  lost  no  end,  haven't  you  ?" 

"  Twenty  thousand  francs  this  morning,  but  the  run  of 
luck  must  change.  Cassagnac  won  his  stakes  and  his  bets 
one  after  another  last  night,  why  may  not  I  to-morrow  ?" 

Madame  Clos  de  Vougeot  and  I  were  flirting  away  that 
night :  we  suited  one  another  to  a  T.  She  was  a  charm- 
ing little  woman.  "Artificial!"  cried  Ill-nature.  My 
dear  madam,  we  know  ijou  are  all  reality  from  your 
pearls  to  your  smiles,  your  luxuriant  braids  to  your  po- 
lite, little  speeches,  but  if  we  only  taste  Johannisberg  pur, 
I'm  afraid  we  shall  have  to  send  away  most  of  the  bottles. 
Bather  let  us  drink  and  be  thankful,  and  not  spoil  bou- 
cpiefc  and  flavor  by  impertinent  questions  ! 

"  Comme  Cyril  a  l'air  egare  !"  cried  she,  as  Chester- 
field passed  us.  "II  a  perdu  encore  une  fois  peut-etre; 
il  joue  toujours  gros  jeu.  C'est  dommage;  mais — mon 
Dieu,  comme  c'est  seduisant  la  roulette  !" 

"Oh,  Cyril,  they  tell  me  M.  Toralhier  lost  his  last 
florin  at  Trente-et-Un  yesterday,"  said  Eva  Boville  to 
him  m  ner  innocence,  when  they  were  alone.  "  He  was 
a  rich  man  when  he  came  to  Baden.  What  a  strange  in- 
fatuation it  is  to  risk  beggary  on  the  color  of  a  card,  the 
turn  of  an  ivory  ball,  to  spend  a  lifetime  waiting  on  the 
caprices  of  Chance,  to  lose  wealth,  time,  peace,  sometimes 
life  itself,  folio-wing  the  fickle  changes  of  accident !  It  is 
an  insanity,  surely  !  I  watched  you  to-day  at  the  table, 
and  I  wished  you  would  not  go  there.  It  is  foolish  of 
me,  I  dare  say,  but  you  are  so  altered  when  you  play; 
your  lips  are  white,  your  eyes  feverish,  your  face  so  worn 
and  haggard,  I  wonder  you  find  pleasure  in  it." 

He  held  her  closer  to  him,  kissing  her  fondly  and  pas- 
sionately with  lips  that  trembled  upon  hers. 

"  You  would  wonder  at  much  that  is  in  my  heart;  bet- 
ter for  your  own  peace  that  you  should  never  know  it. 


33G  TRENTE-ET-UN  ;   OR,  TWO   RIVALS. 

I  love  you  dearly,  you  know,  though  I  am  little  worthy 
you.  But  if  any  can  save  me  it  is  you  alone.  I  prom- 
ise you,  on  my  word  of  honor,  I  will  not  stake  another 
farthing  at  those  accursed  tables." 

For  many  days  the  ball  clicked  against  the  points,  and 
the  croupiers  raked  in  the  florins  and  francs,  the  old 
punters  pricked  their  printed  tickets,  and  the  pretty  de- 
coy ducks  with  fictitious  titles  played  with  the  bank's 
own  gold,  the  sealed  rolls  of  Naps  fell  softly  on  the 
green  cloth,  and  "Rien  ne  va  plus!" — "Trente-Deux — 
Eouge — Pair  et  passe !"  echoed  through  the  hall,  but  the 
croupiers  and  spies  looked  vainly  for  Chesterfield. 


in. 

HOW    CIRCE    CONQUERED. 


One  night  we  were  gathered  in  the  Kursaal  as  usual, 
the  gas  in  the  chandeliers  burning  brightly  down  on  the 
tables,  the  dashing  women  glittering  with  jewels  and  in- 
imitable toilettes,  the  men  with  cordons  in  their  button- 
holes, the  pensioners  of  the  bank  playing  and  chatting 
pleasantly  with  tempting  pigeons,  the  visitors  the  pick  of 
Europe,  princes  and  nobles,  statesmen  and  aristocrats, 
punting  away,  but  looking  smiling,  impassive,  indiffer- 
ent— in  seeming,  at  least.  All  was  calm  and  hushed;  no 
despair,  or  oaths,  or  anything  so  ill-bred  as  innocent 
vielles  filles  fancy  when  they  throw  up  their  eyes  in  hor- 
ror at  the  whispers  of  a  gaming-table;  and  in  the  silence 
there  was  only  the  click  of  the  ball  and  the  monotonous 
refrain  of  the  croupiers  and  the  whisper  of  the  pretty 
women. 


TSENTE-ET-UN  J   OK,  TWO   RIVALS.  337 

I  had  just  put  three  Naps  a  cheval  on  three  chances  of 
the  roulette,  when  I  saw  Chesterfield  standing  by  me. 
Others  might  look  impassive,  he  didn't;  he  was  pale,  and 
his  lips  worked,  and  his  eyes  had  a  wild,  longing  look  in 
them,  like  a  dog's  thirsting  for  water.  He  pushed  his 
way  to  the  roulette-table,  and  staked  upon  the  red.  Ab- 
sorbed in  my  own  game,  I  did  not  heed  his  till,  having 
given  the  bank  its  gain  in  zeros  to  the  amount  of  twenty 
Naps'  loss  on  my  side,  I  retired  from  the  game  with  a 
prudence  I  hope  you  will  vote  highly  commendable,  and 
then  I  noticed  Chesterfield.  He  was  a  strange  contrast 
to  the  laughing,  impassive,  and  controlled  people  round 
him;  the  veins  were  swelled  out  on  his  forehead,  his  lips 
parched  and  drawn  tight  across  his  teeth,  his  eyes  glit- 
tered unnaturally,  as  if  with  delirium  or  madness,  and  his 
hand  trembled  as  he  put  down  his  stakes.  His  system 
was  to  double  always  when  he  lost:  that  system  he  had 
pursued  now.  Black  had  appeared  eleven  times,  the 
color  surely  must  chance  !  He  waited,  his  breath  coming 
short  and  thick  in  the  agonised  impatience  of  his  sus- 
pense. A  twelfth  time,  black  ! — a  thirteenth,  black !  He 
lost !  The  croupier  raked  away  the  seven  thousand  flo- 
rins to  which  his  stakes  had  swelled.  Without  a  word, 
without  looking  to  the  right  or  left,  his  face  more  the 
hue  of  a  dead  than  a  living  man's,  he  pushed  his  way 
out  of  the  hall. 

"  Voila  votre  pauvre  diable  qui  va  quitter  l'enfer  pour 
chercher  un  asile  moins  chaud  dans  le  purgatoire!"  said 
Clos  de  Vougeot,  with  a  laugh. 

It  was  only  a  heartless  jest,  but  someway  it  chilled  my 
blood  as  if  it  had  been  a  prophecy,  and  I  followed  him 
out  of  the  Kursaal.  I  lost  him  in  the  dim  shadows  of 
the  night,  greyer  and  more  confusing  still  after  the  gas- 
glare  of  the  gilded  halls  I  had  just  left,  for  there  was  but 

15 


338  TRENTE-ET-UN ;  OE,  TWO  RIVALS. 

little  light  from  a  new  moon,  and  the  stormy  clouds  drift- 
ing over  the  sky  hid  the  stars  from  sight  ;  but  I  guessed 
he  would  have  gone  on  to  his  hotel  after  leaving  the 
roulette-table  so  abruptly,  and  impelled  by  a  sudden  im- 
pulse I  went  there  too — -why,  I  could  hardly  tell  you. 
Monsieur  had  just  entered,  the  porter  told  me,  and  I  ran 
up  the  staircase  to  Chesterfield's  rooms.  The  door  was 
shut  but  not  locked.  I  opened  it  without  knocking. 
Again,  I  could  not  tell  you  why,  a  horrible,  feverish,  un- 
reasoning anxiety  possessed  me  to  be  in  time — for  what 
I  hardly  paused  to  realise  or  define.  He  stood  with  his 
back  to  me,  and  I  saw  the  glitter  of  a  pistol-barrel  as  he 
raised  his  hand  upwards  to  his  head.  Clos  de  Vougeot's 
devilish  jest  was  a  prophetic  one.  With  a  spring  as 
though  he  were  my  murderer,  and  it  were  my  life  that 
hung  in  the  balance,  I  crossed  the  room,  and  struck  his 
arm  with  a  jerk  that  discharged  the  pistol  in  the  air,  and 
sent  the  bullet  hissing  through  the  heavy  curtains  that 
shrouded  the  window. 

"  Chesterfield,  good  Heaven  !  what  are  you  about  ?" 

He  turned  on  me  fiercely,  his  eyes  glittering  like  a  mad- 
man, wrenching  his  arm  from  my  grasp,  he  who  was  gen- 
erally as  gentle  as  a  woman. 

"  Who  told  you  to  come  here  ?   Get  out,  and  let  me  be. 

"  I  will  not  let  you  be  till  you  are  sane." 
.  "  Sane  ?     I  am  sane  enough,"  he  cried,  with  a  laugh 
that  rang  horridly  clear  in  the  silent  night.     "  Would  I 
were  mad.     Let  me  alone.     You  have  balked  me  once 
but  there  is  another  chance  left." 

He  wrenched  his  arm  again  from  me,  and  leaned  over 
the  t  ibl  3  to  reach  the  other  pistol,  but  before  he  could 
lay  his  hand  on  it,  I  flung  it  away  through  the  second 
window,  which  by  accident  was  open,  out  into  the  gar- 
den below. 


trente-et-un;  or,  two  rivals.  339 

"You  are  mad,  for  the  time  being,  and  I  shall  treat 
you  as  though  you  were,  till  you  listen  to  reason.  Calm 
yourself,  for  Heaven's  sake,  for  the  sake  of  your  man- 
hood, your  courage,  your  honor,  for  the  sake  of  the 
•woman  you  say  you  love.  Tour  life  is  not  your  own  to 
throw  away  like  this." 

The  best  spell  I  could  have  used  was  her  name.  The 
feverish  glare  faded  from  his  eyes,  his  lips  quivered  pain- 
fully, and  his  head  sank  upon  his  arms. 

"  My  God  •  do  not  speak  to  me  of  her." 

"And  why?  Is  she  not  your  promised  wife?  Has 
she  no  influence  on  your  fate,  no  claim  to  your  remem- 
brance ?" 

He  signed  me  to  silence. 

"Every  title,  every  claim.  I  have  loved  her  dearly, 
but  I  have  loved  play  better.  Barely  a  week  ago  I  prom- 
ised her  as  solemnly  as  a  man  could  never  to  go  to  the 
roulette  again.  She  did  not  know  the  extent  of  my 
losses,  nor  did  I  tell  her  them,  but  I  gave  her  my  word 
of  honor,  and  I  have  broken  it !  I  resisted  the  tempta- 
tion, Heaven  knows  with  what  effect ;  no  drunkard  strug- 
gling against  his  curse  ever  struggled  more  firmly  than  I 
against  mine.  But  last  night  Cassagnac  told  me  of  his 
run  of  luck  at  Homburg.  Debts  of  honor  pressed  on 
me.  Why,  I  thought,  might  not  I  make  a  similar  coup 
and  retrieve  all  I  had  lost  ?  Fool  that  I  was,  I  entered 
the  Kursaal,  resolved  to  stake  but  once.  I  heard  the 
click  of  the  ball,  the  voices  of  the  croupiers,  the  soft  fall 
of  the  gold.  I  forgot  honor,  wisdom,  prudence,  every- 
thing; the  old  delirium  came  upon  me  too  strong  for  me 
to  have  any  strength  against  it.  I  had  no  power  to 
pause  till  I  was  ruined,  till  I  had  lost  all !  Great  Heaven, 
what  a  madman  I  have  been !  Digraced  in  my  own  eyes, 
what  shall  I  be  in  hers  ?" 


3-40  TRENTE-ET-UN;   OK,  TWO   RIVALS. 

"  You  will  not  tell  her,  then  ?" 

"Tell  her!  do  you  think  I  could  tell  her?  It  would 
be  good  news  for  her,  truly,  that  she  is  loved  so  little 
that  a  game  of  Trente-et-Un  is  dearer,  has  so  little  in- 
fluence that  her  lover  could  forget  her,  and  fling  away 
all,  even  honor,  for  her  rival  —Play  ?  I,  who  could  not 
give  her  a  moment's  pain,  how  should  I  deal  the  death- 
blow to  her  trust  and  faith  ?  I  could  no  more  tell  her 
that  I  broke  my  word  than  I  could  shoot  a  spaniel  as  it 
licked  my  hand.  You  asked  me  once  yourself  in  jest 
how  she  would  like  a  ruined  gambler  for  a  husband." 

His  voice  was  choked  with  sobs  he  vainly  tried  to  con- 
ceal. Trente-et-Un  has  had  many  victims,  but  I  doubt 
if  ever  one  who  lost  more  to  it  than  he.  I  tried  to  rea- 
son with  him  and  to  calm  him  as  best  I  could.  I  put  be- 
fore him  how  willingly  women  who  love  us  forgive — 
Heaven  help  them ! — any  sins  and  weaknesses  with 
which  we  wrong  them.  I  urged  him  strongly  to  tell  her 
and  her  father  frankly  ail,  so  that  they  might  no  longer 
urge  him  to  stay  on  this  hotbed  of  his  pet  temptation.  I 
pressed  him  to  leave  Baden  at  once;  from  such  a  Circe 
there  is  no  safety  save  in  flight;  but  I  could  not  per-' 
suade  him  into  an  avowal  of  his  losses. 

"  No,  no,"  he  said,  persistently,  "  I  could  not  tell  her 
— I  could  not.  You  do  not  know  what  it  is  to  be  loved 
by  a  woman,  noble,  pure,  guileless  herself,  and  to  have 
deceived  and  wronged  her  trust  in  you.  That  I  am  beg- 
gared for  the  time  they  must  learn,  if  I  cannot  in  any 
way  retrieve  what  I  have  flung  away.  How  I  can  I  do 
not  see  as  yet,  but  some  way  I  will  find,  so  that  I  need 
never  wring  her  heart  by  telling  her  I  betrayed  my 
word." 

"  You  are  wrong,  to  my  mind,"  said  I.  "  A  sin  con- 
fessed is  half  atoned,  and  more  than  half,  and  were  I  you 


TRENTE-ET-UN ;  OR,  TWO   RIVALS.  341 

I  should  not  be  afraid  of  trusting  Eva  Boville's  mercy. 
I  should  fear  infinitely  more  living  with  her  day  after  day 
with  a  wrong  untold,  and  a  secret,  like  Luther's  devil, 
everlastingly  between  us.  Besides,  if  you  tell  her,  you 
can  leave  Baden  at  once;  she  will  not  urge  you  to  stay. 
And  if  you  stay,  another  twenty-four  hours  may  find  you 
again " 


"  No,  no !"  he  said,  passionately,  "I  swear  I  will  never 
go  near  those  accursed  tables  again.  Indeed,  had  I  the 
will,  I  have  not  the  power;  I  have  lost  all  available  money 
there  already.  Great  Heaven !  what  a  fool,  a  madman, 
I  have  been,  I,  who  had  so  bright  a  future  before  me — 
wealth,  peace,  honor,  self-respect,  all  squandered!  Most 
suicides  throw  away  a  darkened  life,  I  have  murdered  the 
fairest  and  brightest  future  mau  ever  had  to  smile  on 
him!" 

I  did  not  leave  him  till  he  was  so  much  calmed  that  I 
feared  no  repetition  of  that  night's  attempted  drama.  I 
should  not  have  left  him  then,  but  a  message  had  called 
me  on  important  business  to  Ooes,  to  meet  a  brother  of 
mine  who  was  passing  through  there  from  Berlin,  and  I 
left  the  Bad  by  an  early  train.  I  would  gladly  have  stayed 
if  I  could.  Chesterfield  interested  me  powerfully;  he 
saddened  me,  too;  there  seemed  something  so  contradic- 
tory and  bizarre  in  a  fate  that  appeared  to  compel  a  man 
highly-gifted,  fortune-favored,  sweet-tempered,  talented, 
and  liked  by  all,  to  work  out  his  own  ruin  so  devoutly, 
and  murder  his  brightest  prospects  with  such  reckless 
persistence.  I  have  often  regretted,  bitterly  regretted, 
that  I  left  him.  Ah,  mon  ami,  we  should  have  few  re- 
grets if  we  could  see  to-day  what  to-morrow  will  bring 
forth,  prepare  for  the  hurricane,  and  seek  shelter  before 
the  storm ! 

It  was  forty-eight  hours  after  that  when  I  drove  back 


342  TRENTE-ET-UN  ;   OR,  TWO   RIVALS. 

to  Baden;  the  days  were  sultry,  and  I  chose  a  night-drive 
rather  than  the  train.  The  silvery  beams  of  the  dawn 
were  streaking  the  pearly  grey  of  the  sky  far  away  among 
the  hills,  the  mosses  at  the  roots  of  the  birches  and  pines 
were  glistering  with  the  morning  dews,  the  birds  were 
waking  up  with  a  gleeful  carol  to  greet  the  sunrise ;  it 
was  a  strange  contrast  from  the  open  country  to  the  town, 
stranger  still,  too,  opposite  the  Kursaal,  where  the  gas 
chandeliers  were  burning,  and  the  women  laughed  with 
the  diamonds  on  their  dresses  and  the  rouge  on  their 
cheeks,  where  the  carriages  with  their  liveried  footmen 
and  emblazoned  panels  waited  outside  the  doors,  while 
the  roulette  turned  and  the  gold  fell  smoothly  on  the 
green  cloth,  and  the  men  and  women  flirted  and  intrigued, 
and  gamed  away  their  stakes,  within.  As  I  drove  past 
the  Kursaal  I  saw  a  crowd  gathered  a  few  yards  from  it 
— a  crowd  that  swelled  and  grew  as  one  by  one  the  peo- 
ple left  the  gaming-tables  and  came  out  into  the  grey  air 
of  the  coming  dawn,  some  going  to  their  carriages,  some 
lounging  carelessly  away,  others  joining  the  little  group. 

Why  did  the  sight  of  that  crowd  chill  me  as  though 
they  were  gathered  to  take  me  up  for  theft  or  murder? 
Heaven  knows!  Without  stopping  to  reason,  I  threw 
the  reins  to  the  groom,  sprang  down,  and  pushed  my 
way  through  the  knot  of  people. 

In  the  midst  of  them  lay  the  dead  body  of  a  man,  his 
face  white  and  calm,  save  where  the  brow  was  knit  as  if 
with  pain,  his  lips  blue  and  slightly  parted,  his  right 
hand  clenched  upon  a  pistol-butt,  and  on  his  left  temple, 
from  which  they  had  pushed  the  silky  golden  hair,  a 
dark  round  orifice,  through  which  the  ball  had  entered 
to  the  brain.  And  through  the  crowd  ran  a  whisper 
1  Lost  at  roulette — shot  himself!" 

"  Chesterfield !  good  Heaven !  why,  I  lent  him  a  hun- 


TKETNE-ET-UN  J   OE,  TWO   KIYALS.  343 

dred  Naps  only  an  hour  ago,"  said  Cassagnac,  lounging 
up. 

"  Ah !  il  est  alio  au  purgatoire,  corame  je  vous  l'avais 
predit,"  laughed  Clos  de  Vougeot,  passing  to  his  carriage. 

For  the  devilish  jest  I  could  have  knocked  him  down, 
but  a  mist  came  before  my  eyes,  I  turned  sick  and  faint, 
knelt  down  by  the  dead  body,  and  I  could  have  wept 
like  a  woman,  though  I  had  seen  dead  and  dying  men 
enough  before  then !  I  guessed  well  enough  how  it  was, 
his  old  delirium  had  come  upon  him  ;  he  had  borrowed 
hoping  to  retrieve  his  shattered  fortunes,  hoping  to 
cover  his  ruin  before  the  woman  he  loved  could  learn  it; 
he  had  lost  again,  and  honor,  peace,  all  gone,  he  in  des- 
pair had  fled  in  a  madman's  haste  and  agony  from  the 
life  which  now  was  tainted  with  dishonor.  I  guessed 
the  story  easily,  but  the  white  cold  lips  could  never 
move  again  to  tell  it  :  there  he  lay,  in  the  soft  silvery 
dawn — dead,  while  the  green  woodlands  stirred  with 
awakening  life,  and  the  birds  sang  under  the  forest 
leaves,  and  the  river  glanced  in  the  morning  light, 
and  the  world  roused,  laughing  for  another  summer 
day,  and  the  woman  who  loved  him  slept,  dreaming 
golden,  innocent  dreams  of  a  future  that  never  would 
come. 

Last  August  I  stood  in  the  Ivursaal  at  Baden,  ponder- 
ing again  on  that  strange  passion  for  Play  which  none  of 
us  can  resist  while  the  spell  is  upon  us — that  is  witching 
as  woman,  dangerous  as  drink,  insatiable  as  death — that 
has  claimed  more  victims  than  the  noblest  cause  for 
which  men  ever  fought  and  fell,  and  won  more  sacrifices 
than  the  fairest  idol.  The  roulette  was  turning  in  its 
metal  disk,  the  gold  was  lying  on  the  green  tables,  the 
jewelled  women  were  laughing  and  playing  in  the  halls 
where  he  had  worked  out  his  doom.     I  thought  of  him 


344  TEENTE-ET-UN ;  OR,  TWO  EIVAXS. 

bitterly,  sadly,  regretfully  ;  but  iu  the  whirl  of  ever- 
changing  life,  a  woman  old  while  yet  young,  widowed 
before  she  was  a  wife,  with  eyes  that  never  smile  and  lips 
that  never  laugh,  and  cheeks  on  which  dangerous  hectic 
burns  and  fades,  and  I  who  now  write  his  story — a  story 
sad  but  common  enough — are  the  only  ones  who  re- 
member the  beauty,  the  talent,  the  happiness,  the  peace, 
the  honor  that  he,  poor  fellow !  so  madly  poured  out  on 
the  altars  of  Trente-et-Un. 


THE  DONKEYSHIRE  MILITIA. 


THE  DONKEYSHIRE  MEITIA. 


LENNOX  DUNBAR. 

Yeey  glorious  we  were  to  sight  in  our  scarlet  coats 
and  our  yellow  facings,  our  pipe-clayed  belts  and  our 
struggling  moustaches,  our  bran-new  swords  and  our 
beautiful  Albert  hats,  with  the  delightful  little  peak 
behind  to  conduct  the  rain  into  our  necks,  and  the  funny 
little  white  knob  a-top,  like  a  floured  tennis-ball  or  a 
guelder-rose. 

Very  glorious  we  were,  the  East  Donkeyshire  Militia 
(Light  Infantry;)  and  when  we  came  down  the  street  in 
full  marching  order,  with  our  band  in  front  of  us  clad 
picturesquely  in  white,  as  if  they'd  come  out  en  chemise 
by  mistake,  and  our  bugleman  playing  one  tune,  and  our 
fugleman  another,  and  our  drum  performing  a  chorus 
peculiar  to  itself,  I  assure  you  we  didn't  think  the  Blues 
or  the  Coldstreams,  or  Cardigan's  Eleventh  would  have 
been  half  so  swell. 

The  East  Donkeyshire  was  embodied  in  '54,  when 
Britannia  took  all  her  hounds  to  draw  the  Crimean  cover 
and  left  the  old  dogs  and  pups  at  home  to  guard  the  ken- 


348  THE  DONKEYSHIRE   MILITIA. 

nel,  and  bark  at  poachers  if  they  couldn't  bite  them. 
And  in  the  town  of  Snobleton,  the  embodiment  of  the 
East  Donkeyshire  was  held  by  ladies  as  a  decided  bless- 
ing, and  by  their  spiritual  pastors  and  masters  as  an 
especial  curse.  For,  in  Snobleton,  males  between  twenty 
and  fifty  were  a  rarity,  and  some  eighteen  eligible  scarlet 
coats  (even  though  those  coats  were  militia,)  fit  to  be 
hunted  down  and  married  out  of  hand,  were,  as  ladies 
are  constituted,  a  great  boon  to  the  young  Venuses  of 
East  Donkeyshire.  I  assure  you  it  was  the  most  flatter- 
ing thing  in  the  world,  the  first  day  we  were  billeted 
there,  to  see  the  lots  of  pretty  little  faces  that  came  to 
the  windows,  and  the  pretty  little  figures  that  clad  them- 
selves in  their  most  voluminous  crinolines,  and  put  on 
their  best-fitting  gloves,  and  their  daintiest  boots,  and 
patrolled  with  an  innocent,  unconscious  air  before  the 
Marquis's  Arms,  where  our  mess  was  established. 

I  can't  tell  you,  I'm  sure,  how  I  came  to  join  the  Don- 
keyshire; for  though,  to  the  best  of  my  belief,  I  shall 
never  see  a  brief  in  my  life,  I  belong  to  Middle  Temple, 
and  had  about  as  much  business  in  the  mihtia  as  a  sailor 
has  at  a  meet.  But  I  had  nothing  to  do  just  then;  my 
old  chum,  Dunbar,  was  a  captain  in  it,  for  a  lark,  as  he 
said;  and  so  I,  for  a  lark  too,  bought  a  beautiful  Albert 
hat,  and  thought,  as  I  surveyed  myself  in  it,  that  if  the 
Trojan  helmet  anyway  resembled  it,  Hector's  small  boy 
showed  good  taste  in  being  afraid  of  it. 

The  Donkeyshire  was  a  sort  of  zoological  gardens,  so 
varied  were  the  specimens  of  the  genus  homo  it  offered 
for  exhibition.  First,  of  course,  was  the  colonel,  Sir 
Cadwallader  de  Vaux,  who  knew  as  much  about  manoeu- 
vring a  battalion  as  I  do  about  crochet  or  cooking.  Then 
there  was  the  lieutenant-colonel,  Mounteagle  ("Mount 
Etna"  we  called  him,  he  was  so  deucedly  peppery,)  a  short, 


THE  DONKEYSHIRE   MILITIA.  349 

stout,  choleric  little  fellow,  but  nevertheless  a  very  fair 
soldier.  Spicer,  the  major,  who,  having  been  an  offi- 
cer of  Sepoy  cavalry,  was  of  course  eminently  fitted  to 
drill  militia  infantry.  Popleton,  romantic,  musical,  and 
spoony,  son  of  the  Donkeyshire  banker.  Stickleback, 
who  scpiinted,  and  was  lamentably  ugly,  yet  tried  hard 
to  be  a  fast  man,  but  couldn't.  Muskett,  our  adjutant, 
who  limped,  we  said  from  sciatica,  he  from  a  ball  at 
Jellalabad.  Eagle,  whose  governor  we  suspected  of 
trade,  and  who,  like  a  snob  as  he  was,  dressed  loud,  and 
was  great  in  studs,  watch-chains,  and  rings.  And  then 
last,  but  not  least  in  the  Donkeyshire,  since  we  were  the 
sole  leaven  of  gentlemanism,  your  humble  servant,  Van- 
sittart;  Carlton  de  Vaux,  whom  everybody  called  Charlie, 
who  had  joined  "only,"  Sir  Cadwallader  impressed  on 
us,  "for  example;"  and  my  old  chum,  Lennox  Dunbar, 
who  had  first  been  a  middy,  then  spent  a  term  or  two  at 
college,  then  went  on  the  stage  half  a  year,  then  into  the 
Hussars  till  he  fought  a  duel  and  got  a  gentle  hint  to  sell 
out,  then  led  a  Bohemian's  life  on  the  Continent,  and 
lastly  turned  Utter ateur,  and  wrote  slashing  articles  in 
the  periodicals.  Now,  having  eight  hundred  a  year  left 
him  by  an  old  aunt,  he  was  a  captain  in  the  Donkeyshire, 
and  the  finest  fellow  that  ever  stood  six  feet  in  his  stock- 
ings. 'Pon  my  word  it  was  the  best  fun  in  life  to  see 
how  all  the  girls  looked  at  Dunbar  when  he  swung  with 
his  cavalry  step  through  the  streets.  Why,  even  the 
vieilles  filles  going  district  visiting  with  strong  copies  of 
The  Pulpit,  Mr.  Byle's  tracts,  or  Mr.  Molyneux's  ser- 
mons, neatly  bound  in  brown  paper,  were  obliged  to  give 
furtive  glances  at  his  soldierly  figure,  handsome  face, 
and  silky  whiskers  and  moustaches — ay,  and  sighed,  too, 
as  they  gazed,  though  they  wouldn't  have  confessed  it; 
no,  not  if  put  to  the  rack. 


350  THE   DONEEYSHrRE   MILITIA. 

"Deuce  take  it,  this  place  seems  as  dull  as  a  grave- 
yard," said  he,  the  first  night  at  mess.  "  My  ten  talents 
of  attraction  are  buried  in  a  napkin.  "Why  did  you  ask 
me  to  join,  colonel?  Van  here  will  hang  himself  if  he 
hasn't  twenty  pretty  women  to  make  love  to." 

"  That's  one  word  for  me  and  two  for  yourself,  Dun- 
bar," said  I.  "I  bet  you  a  pony  before  a  month's  out 
you'll  be  buried  in  a  shower  of  pretty  pink  notes." 

"Some  of  the  girls  here  ain't  bad-looking,"  yawned 
Stickleback;  "but  the  place  is  certainly  awfully  slow." 

"By  Jove!  there's  your  sister,  Pop;  you  must  intro- 
duce us  all.  I  danced  with  her  a  month  ago  at  the  Char- 
ity Ball,  and  I  noticed  she'd  a  very  pretty  foot,"  cried 
Charlie  de  Vaux;  "  and  then  there  are  those  three 
women— what  the  deuce  is  their  name  ? — who  dress  alike, 
and  walk  up  and  down  High-street  twenty  times  in  a 
morning." 

"The  Breloques,  you  mean?  Oh,  they're  nobodies!" 
drawled  Eagle.  "  They're  dangerous.  They  try  and 
hook  every  man  they  meet.  Adela  has  been  engaged  six 
times  to  my  knowledge;  and  I've  a  great  idea  their 
braids  are  false." 

"Like  your  figure,"  murmured  Dunbar.  "Are  there 
no  widows?  I  like  widows.  They're  easy  game,  and 
don't  compromise  one." 

"  All's  easy  game  in  Donkeyshire,"  answered  De  Vaux. 
"  By  George !  we're  so  rare,  that  some  ladies  thought  of 
putting  me  under  a  glass  case  as  the  only  good-looking 
man." 

"  And  label  you,  c  Visitors  are  requested  to  look,  but 
not  to  fall  in  love,  as  the  specimen  can't  stand  it' — eh  ?" 
laughed  Dunbar.  "  Well,  you  and  I  have  got  a  nice  little 
covey  of  partridges  where  we  hang  oxit,  Van." 

Yes.     Confound  you.     You  took  care  of  that,  Dun- 


ce 


THE  DONKEYSHHIE   MILITIA.  351 

bar,"  said  old  "Mount  Etna,"  bursting  with  laughter 
and  pale  ale.  "  You  got  the  best  billet  there  was,  as  far 
as  the  beaux  yeux  went." 

"  Well,  colonel,"  said  Dunbar,  "  all  wise  men  have  their 
weaknesses.  Eichelieu's  was  cats,  Byron's  swimming, 
Peter  the  Great's  was  drawing  teeth,  and  mine  is — 
women.     Let's  toast  them!" 

"I  wish  my  sister  heard  you  classing  women  among 
weaknesses.  What  fun  it  would  be  to  hear  her  fire  up. 
What  beastly  sherry  this  is !"  said  De  Vaux. 

"  And  the  claret's  a  swindle.  I'll  speak  about  it  if  the 
adjutant  won't.     Have  you  a  sister  ?     What's  she  like  ?" 

"How  should  I  know.  Come  and  see,"  responded 
Charlie.  "  She  pulled  me  up  in  a  line  from  Horace  the 
other  day,  little  puss !  which  I  wanted  to  impose  on  the 
governor." 

Dunbar  looked  disgusted.     "Oh!   Blue?" 

"  Lor  !  bless  you,  no,  not  a  bit  of  it.  She  sings  all  day 
and  waltzes  all  night,  but  she  knows  no  end  for  all  that." 

"Knows  Latin!     I  shah  hate  her,"  thought  Dunbar 
"  I  say,  colonel,  which  is  it  to  be — loo,  whist,  or  vingt  et 
un?" 

It  was  a  pouring  night.  Luckless  Popleton  (nick- 
named Ginger-pop,  from  the  hue  of  his  numerous  curls) 
was  on  guard,  and  went  shivering  round  under  a  dainty 
umbrella  to  the  different  billets  and  down  to  the  guard- 
house, and  we  telling  him  to  put  his  feet  into  hot  water 
and  be  sure  and  have  some  gruel  when  he  came  back,  sat 
down  to  the  loo-table. 

Dunbar  and  I  lodged  over  a  pastrycook's,  the  Ude 
of  Donkeyshire,  and  the  "  Covey "  alluded  to  were  the 
pastrycook's  two  daughters,  Fanny  and  Sophy.  Very 
handsome  girls  they  were,  and  they  knew  it  too.  They 
were  fine,  dashing,  well-dressed  brunettes,  and  from  the 


352  THE  DONKEYSHIRE  MILITIA. 

grammar-boys,  who  came  to  sigh  their  souls  out  over 
"  tuck,"  to  old  Spicer,  who,  stoic  though  he  was,  liked  to 
come  and  have  his  mulligatawny  there,  the  two  Miss 
Toffys  were  the  admiration  of  Snobleton.  "  Notre  ma- 
gasin,"  as  Dunbar  called  it,  was  a  general  attraction,  and 
the  amount  of  ices,  cherry-brandy,  and  mock-turtle  old 
Toffy  sold,  thanks  to  his  daughters'  black  eyes,  must 
have  swelled  his  receipts  enormously. 

The  militia  were  godsends  to  the  Covey,  and  they 
smiled  impartially  on  us  all,  for  they  were  prudent  young 
ladies,  and  fished  at  the  same  time  with  minnows  and 
gudgeons,  worms  and  flies,  dead  and  live  bait;  so  that  if 
the  big  fish  wouldn't  nibble,  the  little  ones  might.  Dun- 
bar was  soon  in  favor  with  both.  In  fact,  I  don't  think 
the  woman  ever  lived  with  whom,  if  he  chose,  Dunbar 
wasn't  in  favor.  "  My  dear  fellow,"  he  used  to  say,  "  I'm 
a  modern  Pygmahon ;  the  very  statues  would  fall  in  love 
with  me  if  I  asked  'em.  It's  only  a  little  knack  that's 
wanted  with  women."  The  "little  knack"  he  possessed, 
that  was  very  certain,  and  a  greater  flirt  never  whispered 
pretty  things  in  a  deux  temps.  But  though  he  dressed  . 
as  well  as  D'Orsay,  was  as  handsome  as  the  Apollo — shot, 
swam,  rode,  and  played  bilhards  better  than  any  man  I 
know — sang,  and  drew  caricatures  like  Garcia  and  Cruik- 
shank — and,  withal,  wrote  the  most  pungent  brochures 
and  sparkling  tales  under  the  nom  de  plume  of  "Latakia" 
— yet  I  give  you  my  word  he  hadn't  a  spark  of  vanity  in 
his  composition.  Indeed,  he  was  fond  of  calling  himself 
the  black  sheep  of  his  family,  and  saying  his  terrier  had 
done  as  much  good  in  its  generation  as  he  had  during 
the  thirty-two  years  he  had  walked  to  and  fro  upon  the 
earth.  He  and  De  Yaux  were  the  "  belles  "  of  the  Donkey- 
shire.  Charlie  was  a  pretty  boy  of  nineteen  or  so,  with 
golden  curls,  and  black  eyes  as  soft  as  a  girl's,  and  when 


THE   DONKEYSHIKE   MILITIA.  353 

we  marched  to  the  cricket-field,  and  the  Snobleton  ga- 
mins shrieked  forth,  "  The  nielishee's  a  comin' !"  many- 
were  the  faces  that  came  to  the  window  (to  talk  to  the 
canary,  of  course,)  and  many  the  round  hats  we  encoun- 
tered (by  accident,  on  purpose,)  for  the  sake  of  the  hand- 
some captain  and  en  sign,  whom  even  the  Albert  hat 
couldn't  wholly  disfigure.  The  cricket-field  was  our 
parade-ground.  There  did  the  Awkward  Squad  suffer  its 
pain  and  torture —  there  did  old  Mount  Etna  roar  fruit- 
lessly, "To  the  right  face!"  the  Donkeyshire  invariably 
turning  thereupon  to  the  left  face — there  did  we,  if  or- 
dered to  form  into  section,  form  into  line  as  sure  as  a 
gun,  and  when  Muskett  screamed,  "  Halt !"  did  we  set  off 
double-quick — there  did  Hodges  stamp  on  Bill  Stubbs's 
toe,  and  Jack  fire  his  ramrod  into  Brother  Ambrose's 
eye,  and  Private  A.  make  ready  while  Private  B.  was  fir- 
ing, and  Sergeant  C.  call  out,  "Left,  right!"  while  Ser- 
geant D.  marched  right,  left,  and  my  company  halted 
stock-still,  while  Dunbar's  marched  double-quick,  and 
Eagle's  formed  into  line,  and  Popleton's  into  square,  and 
we  finally  got  all  muddled  together  in  inextricable  con- 
fusion, and  finished  the  day's  manoeuvres  with  a  grand 
scene  of  the  gallant  Donkeyshire  entirely  routed  and  de- 
moralised by  itself. 

But  the  Snobletonians  thought  us  very  grand,  so  it 
didn't  matter,  and  when  we  went  full  figg  to  church, 
with  our  band  performing  the  three  different  tunes  at 
once,  and  we  sat  in  the  mayor's  pew,  with  our  men  in 
front  of  us,  and  old  Mount  Etna  dozed  and  woke  hiraself 
with  a  jerk  in  the  wrong  places,  and  Spicer  sat  bolt  up- 
right, eying  the  lectern  eagle  fiercely,  and  Ginger-pop 
looked  shyly  into  the  Breloques's  pew,  and  Stickleback 
stuck  his  glass  in  the  eye  that  squinted,  and  Dunbar 
caricatured  the  curate  on  the  fly-leaf  of  his  Church  Ser- 


354  THE   DONKEYSHIEE   MILITIA. 

vice,  the  young  ladies  glanced  up  at  us  when  they  ap- 
peared to  be  reading  the  lessons,  and  thought  the  Don- 
keyskire  Militia  was  the  finest  corps  ever  embodied. 


n. 


BEATRICE  DE  VATTX. 


For  the  next  month  we  set  Snobleton  going  as  that 
prudish-proud  and  poverty-stricken  borough  had  never 
gone  before.  Ginger-pop's  governor's  house  was  always 
free  to  us,  and  as  Georgie  Popleton  was  a  good-looking 
girl,  though  confoundedly  affected,  we  accepted  the 
banker's  carte  blanche,  and  the  Breloques's  too.  Adela, 
Augusta,  and  Lavinia,  three  fine  women,  with,  somebody 
said,  10,000L  each — desperate  flirts,  and  very  good 
waltzers — made  their  mother's  house  very  agreeable, 
especially  to  the  young  birds  who  didn't  doubt  the  com- 
plexions, quiz  the  style,  and  know  that  the  smiles  had 
been  given  to  twenty  others  before  'em.  Dunbar  woke 
up  the  governors  of  the  subscription-rooms,  had  oyster 
suppers  and  whist  established  there,  and  introduced 
pool.  He  made  a  row  about  the  mess  wines,  too,  and 
forced  the  Marquis's  Arms  to  give  us  really  good  dinners. 
He  satirised  the  Donkeyshire,  lampooned  Stickleback's 
sporting  efforts,  Eagle's  airs,  and  Pop's  weaknesses,  and 
drew  caricatures  of  M'Dougall,  our  surgeon,  who  went 
clanking  about  in  his  sword  at  all  hours,  he  was  so  proud 
of  it;  of  Ginger-pop  warbling,  ""Will  you  love  me  then 
as  now?"  under  Adela's  window  in  the  dead  of  night;  of 
Pop,  again,  as  he  appeared  the  1st  of  September,  when, 


THE  DONKEYSHIEE  MILITIA.  355 

being  unused  to  powder,  his  gun  kicked,  and  he  fell  flat 
on  his  back,  to  the  admiration  of  all  beholders;  of  Spicer 
eating  ragouts,  and  Charlie  ices  in  "  notre  magasin,"  with 
the  Covey  smiling  generously  on  both:  in  short,  of  all 
the  scenes  and  ways — and  they  were  not  rare — in  which 
the  Donkeyskire  made  fools  of  themselves. 

"  Where's  Charlie  ?  Does  anybody  know  ?"  said  Dun- 
bar, one  Monday  evening,  when  we  were  playing  loo  in 
his  rooms. 

"I  do,"  answered  Stickleback.  "He's  down  below, 
making  love  to  Miss  Fanny.  He  came  in  with  us,  but 
the  young  lady  waylaid  him." 

"Master  Charlie's  good  taste.  I  thought  all  the  tin 
he  laid  out  on  cherry-tipple,  vermicelli,  and  soda-water, 
wasn't  for  nothing,"  said  Dunbar,  who'd  taken  a  liking  to 
the  young  fellow,  as  the  boy-  had  equally  to  him.  "  I 
say,  I  saw  his  twin-sister  to-day.  Do  any  of  you  happen 
to  know  her  ?" 

"  What !  Beatrice  ?  No  ;  she's  only  just  home  from 
Paris,"  said  Eagle,  whom  Sir  Cadwallader  woidd  no 
more  have  introduced  to  his  daughter  than  he'd  have 
introduced  a  costermonger.  "  What's  she  like  ?  Corne- 
tell  us,  Dunbar." 

"She's  very  pretty,"  said  Lennox,  critically;  "  that  I'll 
admit:  chestnut  hair,  long  dark  eyes  to  match,  soft  skin, 
nice  figure,  and  a  very  little  hand  and  pretty  foot,  and 
stands  up  clean.  She  looks  clever,  decidedly  so,  and — 
it's  a  pity  she  knows  Latin  !  What  are  trumps  ?  Thank 
you.  I  say,  Pop,  how  far  is  it  gone  ?  Has  she  named 
the  day  ?     We'll  come  in  full  figg,  band  and  all." 

Popleton  blushed,  and  lost  half  a  guinea  in  his  confu- 
sion. 

"  What  an  ungrateful  fellow  you  are  not  to  tell  your 
bosom  friends,"  cried  Dunbar.     "Well,  you  won't  deny 


356  THE  DONKEYSHIEE    MILITIA. 

Pop,  I  hope,  that  you  were  singing,  '  She  sleeps,  my  lady 
sleeps!'  at  two  o'clock  last  night,  and  that  Adela 
opened  her  window  like  an  angel  as  she  is,  and  dropped 
a  three-cornered  note  at  your  feet — will  you,  eh  ?" 

"I — I — really  never  knew  that  you  saw  me,"  mur- 
mured Ginger-pop. 

Dunbar  shouted  with  laughter  at  his  random  shot 
having  hit  home. 

"  Of  course  you  didn't.  I  defy  any  man  to  stare  devoutly 
at  a  third-story  window  and  look  up  the  street  at  the 
same  time.  I'll  take  '  Miss,'  Van.  Hallo,  Charlie  !  here 
you  are  at  last.     Wasn't  Fanny  kind  to-night  ?" 

The  boy  laughed.  "  What  are  you  playing  for,  Dun- 
bar ?" 

"As  usual — maximum,  ten.  Don't  make  yourself  ill 
with  ices,  Charlie;  you  had  a  dozen  to-day,  I  think. 
The  Covey  are  all  very  well,  but  they're  not  worth  a 
bilious  fever;  besides,  they  like  old  Spicer's  yellow-boys 
better  than  your  yellow  curls,  mon  gargon.  I  say,  I  saw 
your  sister  to-day,  with  the  governor." 

"  Pussy !  did  you  ?     Well,  what  do  you  think  of  her  ?" 

"  That  she  might  be  charming  if  she  didn't  know  Latin. 
Her  eyes  are  like  Capefigue's  description  of  Du  Barry's." 

"  What,  the  Eevalenta  Arabica  man  ?"  asked  Popleton, 
staring. 

"  Not  exactly,  most  innocent  Ginger,"  laughed  Dunbar. 
'Take  another  weed,  Van,  they're  real  Manillas;  my 
brother  Jack  brought  'em  over.  By  Jove!  I  wonder  if 
he's  spending  to-night  in  the  trenches." 

"  I  say,  Dunbar,"  said  Charlie 

"  What,  am  I  looed  ?     By  George !" 

"I  say,  didn't  you  write  '  Charlie  Cheroots;  or,  the 
Fusiliers,'  that's  coming  out  in  the  Pot-Pourri  t" 

Dunbar  nodded. 


THE   DONKEYSHIEE  MILITIA.  357 

"And  that  thing,  too,  on  c  Popular  Preachers  ?' " 

"Yes.     Didn't  you  see  'em  signed  'Latakia?'  " 

"  Well,  Beatrice  said  the  other  day,  after  reading  'em, 
that  they  were  the  best  things  she'd  ever  seen,  and  if  she 
were  to  know  the  author  she  was  quite  certain  she  should 
fall  in  love  with  him." 

"  She's  quite  welcome;  I  don't  mind,"  said  Dunbar, 
with  an  amiably  submissive  air.  "  I'll  have  '  Miss '  again, 
it's  the  only  fun  there  is  in  loo.  Don't  tell  her  I  wrote 
'em,  Charlie.     Let  her  find  it  out." 

"But  if  she  don't  love  you?" 

"  Ca  m'  est  bien  egal,"  said  Dunbar,  caressing  his 
moustaches.  "  It's  rather  a  bore  to  be  loved,  you  know; 
for,  if  you  don't  love  in  return,  it's  no  fun  ;  and  if  you 
do,  you're  in  an  everlasting  fever  and  work.  I've  been  in 
love  ever  since  I  can  remember.  My  first  attachment 
was  a  little  girl  with  blue  eyes  and  peony  cheeks;  not  an 
exalted  object,  for  she  was  our  lodge-keeper's  daughter, 
but  I  know  I  took  her  hardbake  devoutly,  and  adored 
her,  until  my  cousin  Valencia  came.  But  she  was 
twenty,  and  I  worshipped  her  at  a  distance— I  wa 
eleven,  I  believe;  but  I  know,  when  Jack  Montresor  mar- 
ried her,  I  could  have  slain  him  without  shrive.  Nous 
avons  change  tout  cela:  now  I  neither  slay  myself  nor 
my  rivals — even  your  sister,  Charlie,  wouldn't  be  worth 
the  exertion." 

"  I'll  tell  her  what  you  say.  By  Jove,  won't  she  cut  up 
rough !  Pussy's  great  ideas  of  what's  due  to  her  sex !" 

"  Do;  it  will  keep  her  from  falling  in  love  with  the 
author  of  '  Charlie  Cheroots,'  who,  you  may  add,  would 
see  himself  hanged  before  he  married  a  girl  who  knew 
Latin." 

"  Or  before  he  married  at  all,  eh  ?" 

"I    don't   know,"   said    Dunbar,  meditatively.     "Por 


358  THE  DONKEYSHIKE   MILITIA. 

haps  I  may,  some  fine  day,  as  a  dernier  ressort.  I've 
used  up  everything  else.  I  may,  before  I  go  to  glory,  try 
matrimony  as  a  change ;  not  that  I  think  it  would  agree 
with  me,  but  just  as  they  give  boys  sulphur  and  treacle, 
as  a  wholesome  disagreeable." 

We  played  till  it  struck  three  and  then  refreshed  our- 
selves with  "natives,"  lobster-salad,  maccaroni,  gelatine 
de  dindon,  and  all  the  provocations  to  gourmandise  the 
Toffy  talent  could  offer  us.  And  over  the  Burton  ale  and 
cognac  and  norlands,  the  fun  grew  fast,  and  Charlie's 
laughter  uproarious.  Dunbar  told  us  bal  d'Opera  and 
Chaumiere  stories,  and  jests  of  the  Rag  and  the  coulisses. 
Stickleback,  under  the  gentle  influences  of  whisky,  told 
long  tales  of  steeple-chases,  and  the  ring  and  the  yard, 
to  which  nobody  listened.  Eagle  waxed  confidential,  and 
related  an  undying  passion  for  a  fair  countess  he  had 
met  at  a  race-ball,  which  was  very  amusing  to  me,  as  I 
knew  the  lady  in  question,  and  knew,  too,  that  she'd  as 
soon  have  accepted  attentions  from  a  groom  as  from  the 
son  of  a  gin-merchant.  And  Popleton — poor  Popleton ! 
— with  tears  in  his  eyes,  sj>oke  pathetically  of  his  devotion 
to  Adela  Breloques;  showed  us  a  note  of  hers  beginning 
"Beloved  Augustus,"  and  signed  "Ever  thine;"  and, 
finally  commenced  singing  "  Tears,  idle  tears,  I  know  not 
what  they  mean,"  till  Dunbar  stopped  him  at  the  outset 
by  telling  him  it  was  shockingly  stupid  of  him  if  he 
didn't;  tears  were  made  of  water,  albumen,  and  salts, 
and  always  meant,  with  women,  that  they'd  come  to  their 
last  round  of  ammunition,  and  that  you'd  better  kiss  'em 
away  as  fast  as  possible. 

Then  we  went  home  to  our  different  billets  as  the  milk- 
carts  began  to  go  about  the  streets,  and  the  servant-girls 
to  clean  their  steps;  and  I  thought,  as  Master  Charlie 
left  the  door  of  "  notre  magasin  "  chanting  "  He's  a  jolly 


THE  DONKEYSHIRE  MILITIA.  359 

good  fellow,"  that  though  Sir  Cadwallader,  in  his  inno- 
cence, wished  him  to  join  "for  example,"  the  "  example" 
was  a  dubious  benefit  to  the  Donkeyshire. 

"■  But  I  like  that  young  fellow,"  said  Dunbar  that  night, 
or  rather  morning.  "  He's  good-hearted  and  plucky,  and 
never  forgets  he's  a  gentleman.  He's  getting  very  soft 
about  Miss  Fanny;  I'll  take  care  he  don't  do  what  a 
pretty  milliner  of  Petty  Cury  once  trapped  me  into 
when  I  was  at  Trinity — that  greatest  of  butises,  a  prom- 
ise of  marriage.  Fanny's  wide  awake,  and  very  hand- 
some." 

The  next  day  we  went  over  to  Springley,  Sir  Cadwal- 
lader's  place.  We  all  belonged  to  the  Donkeyshire  Arch- 
ery Club,  and  as  the  last  meeting  was  held  at  Springley, 
we  received  an  invitation  from  the  colonel  to  stay  and 
dine  there.  Dunbar  and  I  had  been  there  several  times, 
but  MM.  Eagle,  Stickleback,  Pop,  and  Co.  had  not  at- 
tained to  the  great  dignity.  Looking  a  cross  between  an 
English  Belle  and  a  Spanish  huntress,  I  saw  Beatrice  De 
Vaux  for  the  first  time  in  my  life.  She  was,  I  may  as 
well  say  is,  exquisitely  pretty;  and  her  long  eyes,  soft  and 
dark  like  Charlie's,  shot  destruction  into  the  Donkey- 
shire that  day  from  under  the  coquettish  grey  hat  of  the 
archery  dress. 

She  has  a  good  dash  of  her  old  governor's  pride,  but 
mixed  with  so  much  grace,  softness,  and  girlish  vivacity, 
that  it's  very  bewitching.  She  bowed  a  little  carelessly 
to  the  rest  of  the  gallant  Donkeyshire,  who  were  not, 
certainly,  attractive  in  appearance  to  a  young  lady  fresh 
from  her  first  season,  but  smiled  as  she  recognised  Dun- 
bar, who  looked,  it  is  true,  among  the  males  of  Donkey- 
shire, something  us  Apollo  might  look  among  the  Yahoos. 
He  won  the  claret-jug,  she  the  neglige,  the  two  first  pri- 
zes, which  threw  them  together  the  rest  of  the  day.  Dun- 


3G0  THE  DONKEYSHIRE   MILITIA. 

bar  seemed  to  relish  his  fate  extremely,  and  never  to  re- 
member Beatrice  De  Vaux  knew — Latin ! 

Brilliant  and  witty  as  he  was,  he  had  to  put  out  all  his 
paces  with  her;  she  was  so  clever  that  it  roused  him  into 
exerting  his  intellectual  strength,  and  making  her  feel 
that  there  was  still  more  in  him  than  he  allowed  to 
appear.  He  did  not  take  her  in  to  dinner,  but  he  sat 
on  her  left  hand,  and  the  ringing  fire  of  their  re- 
partees made  even  Sir  Cadwallader  relax  into  a  laugh. 

"By  Jove!"  whispered  Charlie  to  me,  "Dunbar  and 
Pussy  seem  to  get  on,  don't  they?  If  she  knew  how 
he  talked  about  her  last  night,  wouldn't  she  give  him  a 
licking!" 

"When  we  went  into  the  drawing-room  she  was  sitting 
in  a  low  chair  near  the  piano,  looking  divine,  as  Pop 
would  have  phrased  it,  her  dress  for  all  the  world  like  a 
pile  of  white  cloud;  Hunt  and  Boskell's  newest  brace- 
lets on  her  white  arms,  Paris  flowers  in  her  wavy  chest- 
nut hair,  and  her  whole  style  and  toilette  unmistakably 
thorough-bred.  Dunbar  lounged  up  to  her,  leant  his 
arm  on  the  piano,  and  resumed  their  dinner  conversa- 
tion. 

She  had  in  her  hand  the  Pot-Pourri,  the  monthly  in 
which  "  Charlie  Cheroots  "  was  coming  out,  with  sundry 
other  slashing  articles  by  Latakia,  political  or  satirical. 

"  Isn't  he  clever,  this  Latakia,  Captain  Dunbar !"  be- 
gan Beatrice.  "  I  think  all  he  writes  is  delightful.  I 
wish  I  knew  his  real  name.     Can't  you  tell  it  me  ?" 

"  I  grieve  to  refuse  you,  but  I  mustn't,  indeed,  for  he 
wishes  to  keep  his  incognito,"  answered  the  hypocriti- 
cal Latakia. 

"Do  you  know  him,  then?" 

"  Yos.     I  know  as  much  of  him  as  most  people  do." 

"  Oh  !  how  tiresome  you  are.     Can't  you  tell  me  hia 


THE  DOKKEYSHIEE   MILITIA.  361 

name  ?"  cried  the  young  lady.      "  I  should  so  love  to 
know  him;  he  is  so  amusing.     Isn't  he  very  nice?" 

Dunbar  stroked  his  moustaches,  and  looked  dissent 
"  N — no.  I  don't  think  so.  He  has  a  great  many  faults, 
and  has  done  many  naughty  things  in  his  life.  He  is 
very  fond  of  satirising  other  people,  and  might  look  at 
home  with  advantage.  Like  Pendennis,  he's  his  own 
greatest  enemy  and  best  friend.  He  has  talents,  per- 
haps; but  he  fritters  them  away." 

"  Fritters  them  away,  when  he  writes  such  things  as 
the  May  article  on  the  Crimean  question  !"  cried  Beatrice, 
looking  charmingly  indignant.  "  Well !  you  are  not 
very  complimentary  to  your  friend;  one  would  think  you 
were  jealous  of  him.  Poor  Latakia !  it  is  well  he  cannot 
hear  you." 

"You  are  severe,  Miss  De  Vauz,"  said  Dunbar,  with 
an  injured  expression.  "I  was  only  saying  the  truth. 
I  like  Latakia;  nobody  better.  But  he  has  a  good  many 
faults,  and  I  can't  be  blind  to  them." 

"  "Well !  I  am  sorry,"  said  Beatrice,  arching  her  pretty 
pencilled  eyebrows.  "  I  like  his  writing;  he  is  witty, 
without  straining  at  wit;  racy,  without  ever  being  coarse; 
he  draws  society  like  a  man  of  the  world,  and  depicts 
character  as  only  one  can  who  has  a  deep  insight  into 
human  nature;  and  bitterly  as  he  lashes  social  follies  or 
frauds,  you  can  see  under  all  his  satire  a  true  warm  sym- 
pathy with  what  is  noble  in  life,  and  an  under  vein  of 
sadness  which  tells  you  that  though  he  laughs,  scoffs, 
and  jests,  he  has  not  lived  without  tasting  sor- 
row." 

I  don't  doubt  it  was  very  pleasant  to  Dunbar  to  hear 
himself  so  energetically  defended  by  such  a  champion 
as  Beatrice,  with  her  dark  eyes  beaming,  her  haughty 
little  head  raised,  and  her  delicate  cheeks  flushed;  but 

16 


3G2  THE  DONKEYSIUKE   MILITIA. 

lie  didn't  let  himself  seem   so.     He   merely  bowed  his 
head. 

"  Latakia  will  be  very  nattered  when  I  tell  him  how 
happy  he  is  in  your  good  opinion." 

Beatrice  looked  a  little  annoyed  at  his  quizzical  smile. 
"  Oh!"  she  said,  carelessly,  "  I  admire  talent  wherever 
T  meet  with  it.  I  like  to  see  any  man  boldly  stemming 
the  current  of  public  opinion,  and  stating  frankly  his  own 
thoughts,  even  where  they  are  most  at  issue  with  the  re- 
newed prejudices  of  society;  and  you,  even,  must  admit, 
that  your  friend  does  this." 

"Yes;  certainly,"  said  Dunbar.  "I  only  don't  fancy 
him  as  clever  as  he'd  made  himself  out.  But  are  you 
not  terribly  anxious,  Miss  De  Vaux,  to  know  whether 
Charlie  Cheroots  marries  Lucille  or  Lady  Adeliza  ?  Shall 
I  write  and  ask  Latakia  ?  ' 

Beatrice  gave  him  a  pretty  half-annoyed,  half-amused 
glance,  put  her  head  up  and  looked  disdainful,  and,  turn- 
ing to  the  piano,  sang  the  "Fleur  de  l'Ame "  with  a 
thrilling,  passionnee,  pathetic  voice,  that  went  near  to 
making  poor  Popleton  weep.  Dunbar  asked  her  to  play 
"Amour  et  Fanatisme "  for  him;  and  addressed  the 
"  Chretienne  aux  longs  yeux  bleus  "  with  such  artistic 
style  that  Beatrice  began  to  forgive  him,  and  they  sang 
Italian  bravuras  till  the  rest  of  the  Donkeyshire  grew 
mad  with  envy. 

When  he  and  I,  with  Eagle  and  Popleton,  drove 
back  to  Snobleton  in  the  dog-cart,  Dunbar  refreshed 
himself  with  a  good  laugh. 

"By  Jove,  Vam  that  critique  was  beautiful!  I 
shouldn't  be  half  so  flattered  if  the  Quarterly,  the  West- 
minster, or  the  Times  were  to  tell  me  I  beat  every  roman- 
cist  hollow,  from  Le  Sage  to  Bulwer.  Didn't  Beatrice 
come  out.     I  give  you  my  word,  when  she  asked  me  so 


THE  DONKEYSHIRE   MILITIA.  363 

seriously  if  I  didn't  think  myself  clever,  I  could  Lave 
burst  with  laughter." 

"  You'll  be  more  likely  to  get  puffed  up  with  vanity," 
murmured  Pop,  who  was  rather  cross,  for  the  Breloques 
had  not  been  at  the  meeting,  as  we  know  it  would  kill 
"  the  county  "  to  mix  for  a  second  with  "  the  town." 

"  No,  most  wise  Ginger,"  answered  Dunbar,  seriously, 
whipping  up  the  mare,  "I  shall  never  be  fat,  thank 
Heaven.  I'm  too  muscular;  and  if  I  ever  require  my 
waistcoats  extended  one  tenth  of  an  inch,  I  shall  turn 
vegetarian,  and  drink  vinegar,  as  Adela  Breloques  has 
done  for  the  last  ten  years  (if  one  may  judge  from  the 
sharpness  of  her  nose),  with  many  other  stout  quasi 
juveniles." 

Poor  Pop  shrank  into  himself.  He  learnt  what  it  was 
to  try  satire  with  the  author  of  Charlie  Cheroots. 

"'Pon  my  life,  it's  odd  how  well  Beatrice  read  my 
character  in  describing  Latakia's,"  said  Dunbar,  as  we 
sat  smoking  that  night.  "  I  don't  mean  in  the  flattery 
about  my  talents,  &c,  but  in  the  '  underlying  sadness,' 
as  the  young  lady  styled  it,  and  in  the  enjoyment  I  take 
in  pitching  into  that  double-distilled  donkey,  Society. 
She's  right  enough,  Van,  that  I've  had  my  share  of  sor- 
row, though  nobody  would  think  it;  and. she  has  read 
my  nature  truer  in  my  writings  than  anybody  ever  did 
yet." 

I  smiled.     "  You've  forgiven  her  the  Latin,  then  ?" 

"Latin?  Oh  yes;  she's  nothing  of  the  bas  bleu  about 
her,  so  it  don't  matter.  I  suppose  she  picked  up  a  smat- 
tering of  Horace  from  Charlie's  tutor;  she's  a  clever 
little  thing — very  intelligent,  and  has  something  to  say 
for  herself.  What  a  treat  that  is  now-a-days,  when  the 
girls  one  meets  are  all  well-dressed  puppets — nothing 
better,  and   can  only  lisp   their   inane   nonsense   about 


364:  THE  DONKEYSHIRE   MILITIA. 

Lady  A.'s  last  ball,  or  Lady  B.'s  new  bonnet;  or  bow 
pleasant  a  valseur  young  D.  is,  or  what  a  lovely  pug  Cap- 
tain E.  has  given  'em.  There  are  plenty  of  pretty  heads 
on  pretty  shoulders,  but  precious  few  with  anything  in- 
side them.  They  have  unexceptionable  coiffeurs,  and 
hair  '  done  '  to  a  nicety;  but  they're  like  whipped  cream, 
all  outside  show,  and  in  the  little  geese's  heads  you  look 
in  vain  for  stuffing." 

"  How  eloquent  we  are !  Put  that  down  for  Part 
XLT.  of  Charlie  Cheroots,  and  add  that  it  was  inspired  by 
Dunbar's  Beatrice,  second  only  to  Dante's." 

"  Who  is  a  charming  exception  to  the  general  run  of 
young  ladies,  for  which  Latakia  will  amuse  himself  with 
her  company  as  often  as  possible.  By  George !  that  re- 
minds me  I've  got  to  finish  all  my  October  things  for  the 
Pot-Pourri,  the  Liberalist,  and  the  Equality  Peview.  I'll 
sit  up  and  write  to-night.  You're  off  to  bed  Van,  Push 
me  those  Cubas  before  you  go.  Thank  you.  Pleasant 
dreams,  old  fellow." 


in. 


THE  REVIEW,  AND  THE  PRESENTATION  OF  THE  COLORS  BY 

BEATRICE. 

Time  slipped  away,  and  the  Donkeyshire's  best  drilled 
company  seemed  to  me  only  an  awkward  squad.  We 
seemed  to  try  with  all  our  might  to  realise  Punch's  '48 
militia's  pictures,  and  if  we  didn't  parade  when  it  was 
wet  with  our  umbrellas  up,  it  was  merely  because  half 
the  Donkeyshire  didn't  possess  such  articles.     The  most 


THE   DONKEYSHIEE   MILITIA.  365 

martial  man  among  us  was  our  Podilirious  M'Dougall, 
who  had  grown  the  fiercest  moustache  in  the  regiment, 
and,  as  I  have  said,  never  parted  with  his  sword,  but 
went  clanking  about  with  it  at  all  hours  of  the  day  up 
the  High  Street  and  down  the  market-place,  the  ting-ting 
it  played  on  the  pave  making,  I  suppose,  sweet  music  to 
his  medical  ears. 

The  most  notable  event  that  occurred  was  the  arrest 
of  Spoon,  an  ensign,  son  of  a  Snobleton  brewer.  When 
stealing  at  dusk  into  the  garden  of  Miss  Backboard's 
Academy,  to  visit  the  lovely  object  of  his  passion,  he 
was  ignominiously  taken  up  by  a  policeman  for  trespass- 
ing, and  had  to  pay  the  cost  of  the  virtuous  Backboard's 
prosecution.  The  Covey  continued  very  great  guns, 
Fanny  making  desperate  love  to  Charlie  and  Sophy  to 
Dunbar,  old  Tolly  shutting  both  eyes  tight,  like  a  sensi- 
ble parent  as  he  was. 

The  Breloques  gave  carpet-dances  twice  a  week,  and 
waltzed  the  ensigns  into  rapturous  adoration,  and  poor 
Pop  nearly  into  a  proposal.  Pop  would  have  compro- 
mised himself  entirely  if  a  Snobleton  solicitor  hadn't 
shown  him  some  notes  (facsimile  of  the  dainty  billets- 
doux  the  ensign  daily  received)  which  Adela  had  written 
him  only  six  months  before,  which  unlucky  discovery  a 
little  damped  the  militiaman's  ardor,  and  made  him  sing, 
"Hopeless,  I've  watched  thee,"  and  "I  know  a  maiden 
fair  to  see,"  so  drearily  and  dreadfully,  that  Eagle,  who 
lived  next  him,  was  driven  to  change  his  lodgings.  Dun- 
bar, meanwhile,  was  constantly  riding  over  to  Springley, 
taking  books,  floss  silk,  beads,  potichomanie  and  diapha- 
nie,  new  crayons,  gold  for  illuminating,  or  any  other  little 
commissions  Beatrice  chose  to  give  him.  There  was  no 
duenna  at  Springley.  Lady  de  Vaux  was  dead,  and  Sir 
Cadwallader's  sister,  a  mild  old  lady,  devoted  to  lapdogs 


3GG  THE   DONKEYSHIRE   3HLITIA. 

and  knitting,  was  as  good  as  nobody.  There  were  plenty 
of  guests,  to  be  sure,  but  none  of  them  thought  it  their 
business  to  spy  on  their  young  hostess.  Sir  Cadwalla- 
der  was  shut  up  in  his  library,  or  out  at  the  sessions,  or 
attending  some  other  magisterial  duties;  so  Dunbar 
sang,  and  read,  and  chatted  with  Beatrice  as  much  as  he 
liked,  which  was  whenever  he  wasn't  drilling  or  shooting 
over  the  Springley  preserves.  And  they  had  at  once  so 
much  that  was  akin  and  so  much  that  was  different 
(l'harmonie  dans  les  sentimens  et  l'opposition  dans  les 
caracteres,  as  Dunbar  quoted, )  that  Latakia  fell  in  love 
for  the  two  hundred  and  sixtieth,  and  Beatrice  for  the 
first,  time  in  their  hves. 

All  the  two  months  through  we'd  been  fancying  the 
Duke  of  Cambridge,  or  the  illustrious  Field-Marshal 
author  of  our  hat,  would  come  down  to  review  us,  but  as 
they  didn't,  we  thought  we'd  review  ourselves,  and  I 
don't  doubt  we  pleased  ourselves  a  great  deal  better  than 
we  should  have  done  them.  'At  this  review  Sir  Cadwalla- 
der  thought  he'd  bestow  a  pair  of  colors  on  the  Donkey- 
shire,  and  the  little  white  hands  of  his  daughter  were  to 
give  them  away. 

"  II  promet  £>lus  de  beurre  que  de  pain,"  whispered 
Beatrice,  pointing  to  our  redoubtable  motto,  "  Nob  me 
tangere." 

"  No,  it  doesn't,"  said  Dunbar,  laughing."  It's  quite 
true  the  gallant  corps  never  will  be  touched — by  powder. 
A  donkey's  ears,  with  the  motto  Awkward  Squad,'  would 
be  more  appropriate  than  that  rising  sun  and  royal 
arms." 

"  Why  do  you  waste  your  time  then,  and  lower  yourself 
by  belonging  to  them?"  asked  Beatrice.  "I  should  have 
thought  both  your  spirit  and  inclination  would  have  led 
you  long  ago  before  Sabastopol." 


THE   DONKETSHIEE   MILITIA.  367 

"  They  would,  but  for  an  affair  with  Trelawney,  which 
shut  the  service  upon  me.  Else  I  should  have  bee  a  at 
Alma  and  Balaklava  with  poor  Jack.  But,  however, 
plenty  of  better  fellows  than  I  have  been  shot  down  in 
that  thankless  cause,  and  I  hope  you  don't  wish  I  were 
among  the  number."  And  Dunbar  made  his  handsome 
eyes  very  sorrowful  and  touching.  The  upward  look  he 
got  answered  him  fully.. 

All  Snobleton  came  to  see  us  reviewed.  There  were 
three  carriages  from  Springley,  and  Beatrice  in  her  own 
little  trap,  with  four  black  Shetlands  that  put  me  in 
mind  of  Cinderella's  mice  ;  the  Popleton  vehicle,  with  a 
gorgeous  hammercloth  and  coat-of-arms  as  big  as  life 
(the  banker's  grandfather  had  kept  the  Marquis's  Arms, 
but  they  dropped  that  reminiscence,  you  see,)  and 
Georgie  Pop  inside  it  cosmetiqued,  fixatriced,  and  got 
up  to  a  T  ;  the  Breloques,  in  a  hired  clarence,  with  entire 
conservatories  emptied  out  on  their  bonnets,  and  a  thou- 
sand prepared  minauderies  and  ready-made  smiles  to 
trap  the  •unwary.  The  Covey,  too,  came  with  their 
bosom  friend  Miss  Boddington,  a  job-master's  daughter, 
in  a  landau  from  the  paternal  Boddington's  stables,  and 
boldly  took  their  stand  in  the  inner  circle,  to  the  im- 
measurable disgust  of  the  Snobleton  "  aristocracy." 

Then  there  were  a  great  many  on  foot  who  couldn't 
see  themselves  and  wouldn't  let  anybody  else,  who  were 
constantly  breaking  the  line  and  getting  mixed  up  among 
the  bayonets  ;  and  there  was  Sir  Cadwallader  riding 
about  very  grand  and  stern  on  a  kicking  black  horse, 
and  Mount  Etna  swearing  till  he  was  black  in  the  face, 
and  the  rest  of  the  gallant  Donkeyshire  doing  all  that 
they  ought  not  to  do,  and  leaving  undone  all  that  they 
ought  to  do.  Our  bugler  burst  forth  in  the  "  British 
Grenadiers,"  the  fife  in  "  The  girls  we  leave  behind  us," 


368  THE   DORSETSHIRE   MILITIA. 

the  clarionet  in  "Cheer,  boys,  cheer,"  and  the  drum  in 
an  incessant  tattoo  in  harmony  with  nothing  ;  and  amidst 
this  fanfaronade  the  manoeuvres  commenced. 

I  cannot  describe  them,  they  were  far  too  beautifully 
complex ;  Williams  of  Kars  himself  would  have  been 
bewildered  by  those  intricate  and  marvellous  evolutions. 
It  was  specially  grand  when  we  got  mixed  up  with  the 
crowd,  and  Stokes,  a  private  in  my  company,  impaled  a 
small  boy  on  his  bayonet  to  the  destruction  of  a  pinafore 
and  a  leather  belt ;  and  when  we  formed  into  square, 
and  my  servant,  firing  with  his  eyes  shut,  as  was  his 
custom,  a  la  Winkle,  discharged  his  blank  cartridge 
straight  into  Sir  Cadwallader's  face,  thereby  ruffling  the 
baronet's  aristocratic  equanimity  to  a  very,  unaristocratic 
extent.  The  evolutions  over,  two  drums  were  set  in  the 
middle  of  the  cricket-field,  with  the  colors  laid  upon 
them  ;  the  Donkeyshire  formed  round,  and  Beatrice,  with 
her  pretty  mixture  of  girl's  gaiety  and  woman's  self- 
possession,  descended  from  her  pony-carriage.  She  gave 
Dunbar,  who  was  looking  at  her  with  admiring  approval, 
a  side  glance  and  a  smile  as  she  walked  to  the  drums 
with  that  thorough  air  of  "  lady  "  that  the  Georgie  Pops 
and  Adela  Breloques  never  can  carry,  let  'em  dress  as 
they  will.  She  made  the  regiment  a  pretty  speech  in  her 
soft,  clear  voice,  as  she  gave  the  colors  to  the  two  young- 
est ensigns.  There  was,  of  course,  an  immense  deal  of 
huzzaing,  old  Blount  made  a  flowery  oration  to  Beatrice, 
and  we  marched  round  the  field,  Charlie  carrying  the 
Queen's  and  Spoon  the  regimental  colors,  and  the  band 
playing  "  Grod  save  the  Queen,"  the  bugle  at  a  gallop, 
the  fife  at  a  slow  trot,  the  clarionet  at  the  peace  of  the 
Dead  March,  and  the  drum  performing  the  variations 
peculiar  to  itself.  We  gave  them  a  luncheon  afterwards 
in  a  tent  used  for  the  Snobleton  flower-shows  ;  and  Dun- 


THE  DONKEYSHIKE  MILITIA.  3G9 

bar  sat  himself  next  Beatrice,  his  handsome  eyes  discours- 
ing most  eloquently. 

'•  Who  are  those  two  persons  Charlie  is  so  devoue  to  ?" 
asked  Beatrice,  when  the  luncheon  was  nearly  over, 
glancing  at  the  bottom  of  the  tent,  where  her  brother,  in 
reckless  forgetfulness  of  Sir  CadwaUader,  had  outraged 
every  virtuous  feeling  of  the  Snobleton  elite  by  placing 
the  Covey. 

"Then-  name  is  Toffy.  Will  you  take  some  dindon 
desosse?  " 

"Thank  you.     Do  they  live  in  Snobleton?    Who  are 

they?" 

"Two  handsome  women,"  laughed  Dunbar,  not  will- 
ing, for  Charlie's  sake,  to  enlighten  her  concerning  the 
belles  of  "  notre  magasin." 

"  But  not  ladies,"  said  Beatrice,  looking  at  them  with 
a  little  disgust,  and  thinking  Dunbar's  silence  rather 
odd.  "  A  laugh  will  tell  a  lady,  you  know,  as  Lata- 
kia  says."  And  her  own  laugh  rang  clear  and  mu- 
sical. 

"  You  flatter  Latakia  very  much  by  remembering  his 
idle  words." 

"  '  Idle'  words !  There  you  are,  depreciating  your 
unhappy  friend  again.  .  I  am  afraid  you  are  of  a  very 
envious  disposition,  monsieur.  By  the  way,  I  am  angry 
with  dear  Latakia  for  his  September  number.  He  speaks 
so  naughtily  about  women,  as  if  we  were  only  fit  to  be 
his  lordship's  toys,  and  it  were  supreme  condescension 
to  elevate  us  even  so  high.  He  seems  to  conceive  that  if 
we  are  pretty  we  must  of  necessity  be  silly,  and  that  our 
highest  office  in  this  world  must  be  to  warm  his  high- 
ness's  slippers  and   fill  his   mightmess's   meerschaum!" 

Dunbar  liked  nothing  better  than  to  set  Beatrice  off  on 
her  sex's  rights.     She  looked  so  pretty  in  her  animated 


370  THE  DONKEYSHIKE   MILITIA 

tilting,  when  she  put  her  red  lance  in  rest  and  charged 
him  full  gallop. 

"Well,  those  are  duties  any  amiable  wife  would  per- 
form, are  they  not  ?"  he  said,  with  what  Beatrice  called 
his  provoking  smile. 

"  Duties  ?  Odious  words !  If  those  are  Latakia's 
ideas,  he  had  better  marry  his  housemaid,  she'll  be  more 
used  to  waiting  on  him,  and  do  it  better.  It  is  a  pity 
gentlemen  with  such  notions  of  wives'  duties  don't  turn 
Mahometans,  and  keep  a  thousand  slaves." 

"  It  would  be  pleasant,  but  I'm  afraid  it  might  be  ex- 
pensive," answered  Dunbar,  thoughtfully.  "  One  would 
want  such  a  large  house,  thats  the  worst  of  it." 

Beatrice  pulled  her  gloves  on  impatiently,  and  arched 
her  pretty  eye-brows  contemptuously. 

"And  as  I  say,  after  all,"  continued  her  tormentor, 
"if  one  marries  a  good,  sensible  girl,  not  too  accom- 
plished, and  not  pretty  enough  to  be  vain,  who  feels  her 
inferiority  to  us,  and  doesn't  seek  for  admiration,  but  has 
a  needle  at  hand  if  a  button  comes  off,  and  can  keep  a 
check  on  the  cook's  expenses,  and  knows  when  a  dinner 
is  well  served,  why,  that  all  is  one  wants  in  a  wife." 

"And  I  hope  that  is  all  you  will  ever  get!"  cried 
pretty,  accomplished,  brilliant  Beatrice,  as  innocent  of 
needlework  and  housewifery  as  Dunbar  himself.  "  Mar- 
ry my  maid,  she  will  suit  you  exactly.  She  has  all  the 
serviceable  qualities  you  require,  and  you  wiU  not  be 
troubled  with  too  much  wit,  beaut}7,  or  intellect.  If  I 
were  you,  I  would  advertise  in  the  Times — '  A  wife, 
wanted — neither  head  nor  heart  desirable,  but  a  strong 
pair  of  hands  indispensable.  N.  B.  Housemaids  and  pas- 
trycooks are  particularly  eligible  for  the  situation." 

And  Miss  Beatrice  spoke  very  angrily  and  disdainfully, 
with  her  soft  eyes  flashing,  but  her  cheeks  were  pale,  and 


THE   DONKEYSHIEE   MILITIA.  371 

tears  glistened  on  her  lashes.  Dunbar  laughed  heartily, 
he  was  so  happy.  He  thought  to  himself,  "  Unless  she 
cared  for  me,  what  I  say  wouldn't  trouble  her  quite  so 
much." 

"  Hallo,  Pussy,  quarrelling  with  Dunbar,"  said  Char- 
lie, leaning  over  her,  having  summarily  deserted  the 
Covey  on  catching  his  governor's  eye  fixed  inquiringly 
on  Fanny  and  Sophy. 

"  Quarrelling  ?  Dear  me,  no,  Charlie.  "What  could 
make  you  think  so  ?  Captain  Dunbar  and  I  were  only 
comparing  notes,  to  see  how  utterly  different  all  our 
opinions  are,"  answered  Beatrice,  carelessly  buttoning 
her  right-hand  glove. 

"  That's  quarrelling,  Pussy.  Pie  !  it's  very  naughty  to 
be  cross  to  Dunbar,  when  only  such  a  little  time  ago  you 
told  me  you  loved  him,"  whispered  Charlie. 

Beatrice  stared  at  him,  turned  scarlet,  then  white, 
caught  Dunbar's  eyes  and  dropped  her  own,  in  the 
most  miserable  fix  a  young  lady  ever  was  placed  in. 
Then  her  self-possession  come  to  her  aid,  and  she 
tried  to  look  haughty  with  all  her  might,  though  her 
hand  shook,  and  she  breathed  quickly. 

"  Carlton !  what  an  absurd  jest.  I  should  think  you 
scarcely  know  what  you  are  saying." 

"Oh  yes,  I  do,  Pussy,"  answered  Charlie,  coolly.  "I 
assure  you,  'pon  my  honor,  though  you  may  pretend  to 
deny  it  before  him,  that  you  did  really  and  truly  say  you 
loved  my  friend  Lennox  Dunbar." 

Beatrice  tried  hard  to  conceal  her  agitation,  and  suc- 
ceeded. 

"  You  disgrace  yourself,  Carlton,  not  me.  Captain 
Dunbar,  have  the  goodness  to  take  me  to  papa." 

"  Wait  a  bit,  Pussy;  just  let  a  fellow  speak,"  said 
Charlie,  in  a  low  tone.     "  Don't  get  so  deucedly  stiltified. 


372  THE  DONKEYSHIEE   MrLITIA. 

I  repeat  that,  whether  you  unsay  it  just  "because  Dun- 
bar's here  or  not,  that  you  distinctly  told  me,  after  read- 
ing the  July  number  of  the  Pot-Pourri,  and  some  things 
in  the  Equality  Review,  that  you  loved — yes,  loved — 
Latakia !" 

"  Latakia !"  repeated  Beatrice,  the  light  dawning  on 
her.  "  Are  you  Latakia  ?"  she  cried,  turning  to  Dunbar, 
the  color  mounting  in  her  cheeks. 

"Yes;  and  happy  indeed  am  I  to  be  Latakia,  if  any- 
thing I  ever  had  the  good  fortune  to  write  has  amused 
one  hour  of  yours,  or  won  me  one  word  of  your  ap- 
proval," whispered  Dunbar,  bending  down  to  her. 

Beatrice  put  her  hand  into  his  offered  arm,  and  looked 
up  with  naive  joy  in  his  face,  quite  forgiving  him  his 
heathenish  matrimonial  doctrines. 

"  To  think  that  you  should  be  Latakia !  How  glad  I 
am !  If  I  hadn't  been  so  stupid  I  should  have  guessed  it 
long  ago.  Oh,  now  you  will  promise  me,  won't  you,  to 
make  Charlie  Cheroots  marry  dear  little  Lucille?" 

"  That  I  will,  to  please  you,  though  I've  had  some  idea 
of  killing  her,  to  punish  Cheroots  for  his  naughtiness; 
and,  Beatrice,  will  you  promise  me  not  to  deny  to  Len- 
nox Dunbar  the  love  you  in  jest  gave  to  Latakia  ?" 

He  spoke  in  a  whisper  as  he  leant  over  the  pony-car- 
riage, for  her  old  aunt,  plague  take  her !  sat  on  the 
other  side.  He  felt  a  tiny  pressure  of  his  hand  as  she 
dropped  the  reins  and  stooped  to  pick  them  np;  and 
then  the  four  mice  bowled  away  his  fairy  queen,  and  he 
was  obliged  to  content  himself  as  best  he  might." 

"  Clever  fellow  Dunbar  is,"  said  Connynghame  of  the 
Tenth,  that  evening,  in  the  Springley  drawing-room. 
"  It's  a  crying  shame  to  bury  himself  with  such  a  set  of 
asses.  That  famous  duel  of  his  lost  the  service  a  splen- 
did soldier." 


THE   DONKEYSHIEE   MILITIA.  373 

Yes,  he  is  clever,  and  very  agreeable,"  answered  sen- 
tentious Sir  Cadwallader.  "I  was  sorry  to  hear  such 
reports  of  him,  as  Mr.  Altarcloth  told  me  to-day." 

Altarcloth  was  the  perpetual  curate  of  St.  Purifica- 
tion's, whom  Dunbar  caricatures  in  his  church-service. 

"  "What  about?"  asked  Connynghame,  listlessly. 

"About  him  and  the  daughters  of  Toffy,  the  confec- 
tioner, with  whom  he  lodges,"  answered  the  baronet, 
lowering  his  tone,  lest  his  daughter  should  be  contami- 
nated. "  They  are  fine  women — very  fine  women,  cer- 
tainly— but  Altarcloth  tells  me  Dunbar's  conduct  with 
them  is — anything  but  what  it  should  be."  And  Sir 
Cadwallader,  who,  being  a  county  member,  thought  it 
expedient  to  be  very  puritanic,  rigid,  and  oblivious  of  his 
own  youth,  lifted  his  eyebrow  and  shook  his  head. 

Connynghame  laughed.  "  The  Covey !  Oh,  I  dare 
say;  crinoline  was  always  his  favorite  game." 

Beatrice  turned  round,  her  dark  eyes  flashing,  and  her 
cheek  flushed.  "Dear  papa,  do  you  listen  to  what  Mr. 
Altarcloth  tells  you?  There  is  not  a  greater  scandal- 
monger in  all  Donkeyshire.  Surely  you  do  not  allow 
that  hypocritical  pet  preacher  to  influence  you  against  an 
intimate  friend  ?" 

Sir  Cadwallader  frowned,  and  changed  the  subject. 

Scorning  herself  for  being  jealous  of  the  Covey,  but 
hating  them  with  all  the  hot,  reasonless,  fiery  hate  with 
which  a  girl  in  love  hates  any  woman  to  whom  her  "  alter 
idem"  only  says  "Good  morning!"  Beatrice  listened  to 
this  gossip,  to  which,  in  the  earlier  stage  of  his  residence 
at  "notre  magasin,"  my  friend,  to  say  the  truth,  had 
given  a  corner-stone,  which  is  always  enough  to  build  a 
large  temple  for  gossip  in  a  country  town. 

Beatrice  recalled  his  unwillingness  to  speak  of  the 
Covey,  the  haste  with  which  he  dismissed  the  subject, 


374  THE  DONKEYSHIKE   MILITIA. 

but  thought,  "  Yet,  if  he  likes  me,  he  can't  care  for  such 
girls  as  those  now,  whatever  he  may  have  done  before." 
"With  which  womanlike  reasoning  Beatrice  went  to  the 
carriage  to  drive  to  the  Snobleton  Theatre,  her  heart  as 
unquiet  and  fearful  as  partridges  in  October,  wondering 
when  Dunbar  would  repeat  the  question  he  put  to  her 
that  morning. 


rv. 


HOW  DUNBAR  WENT  TO  THE  MISS  TOFFYs'  BOX  AT  THE  SNOBLETON 
THEATRE,  AND  THEREBY  PUT  HIS  FOOT  LN  IT. 

"We  got  up  to  go  to  the  theatre,  which  was  opened  that 
night  for  the  first  time  by  a  manager  whose  spirit  of  en- 
terprise beat  Columbus's  hollow,  since  Snobleton  set  its 
face,  on  principle,  dead  against  anything  amusing,  and 
parson-bestridden  till  it  had  no  tin  for  anything  but  pa- 
rochial testimonials  and  red  handkerchiefs  for  heathens 
Dunbar  slipped  his  arm  into  Charlie's  as  we  went  down 
the  inn  steps.  "  So,  you've  actually  been  green  enough 
to  give  Miss  Fan  a  promise  of  marriage  ?" 

"  A  written  one,"  murmured  poor  Charlie. 

"  Oh,  of  course.  Never  knew  a  young  one  do  a  thing 
by  halves.  So,  do  you  actually  mean  us  to  see  in  the 
Times  the  nuptials  of  'Carlton  de  Vaux,  only  son  of  Sir 
Cadwallader  de  Vaux,  of  Springley,  Donkeyshire,  to 
Fanny,  eldest  daughter  of  Nathaniel  Toffy,  confectioner, 
Snobleton  ?'  You'll  get  the  wedding-cake  for  nothing, 
that's  a  consideration,  certainly.  I  suppose  you'll  ask 
yoxu'  sister  to  be  bridesmaid  ?" 

"Confound  you,  Dunbar!   you  know  I  never  meant 


THE   DONKEYSHIRE  MILITIA.  375 

anything  of  that  sort,"  burst  in  the  unlucky  ensign.  "  I 
gave  it  one  evening  when,  I  believe,  I'd  taken  more  of 
old  Toffy's  runi-and- water  than  was  good  for  me;  and— 
and — you  know  a  fellow's  driven  into  such  things  some- 
times." 

"I  believe  you,  my  innocent;  and  Fanny's  a  first-rate 
whip.  I'd  something  of  the  same  kind  nryself  when  I 
was  a  boy  at  Trinity.  She  was  the  arrantest  flirt  that 
ever  fixatriced  her  bandeaux — a  wicked  little  Melusine ! — 
but  the  rascally  jury  gave  her  damages  for  three  hundred, 
like  donkeys  as  they  were,"  said  Dunbar,  pausing  to  re- 
light his  cigar. 

"So  you  wish,  now,  that  luckless  promise  had  never 
been  given  ?" 

"Yes,  by  George  I  do!"  swore  poor  Charlie. 

"  Thought  as  much.  Well,  I  shaU  have  to  help  you 
I  suppose.  See  if  I  can't  talk  the  confectioner  into  reason, 
and  persuade  the  Covey  that  they'll  never  get  Spiingley 
and  the  title,  and  that  they  may  as  well  take  a  quiet 
douceur  at  once,  like  sensible  women.  You've  taken 
them  tickets  to-night,  I  suppose '?     Which  box  ?" 

"No.  Four,"  answered  the  Covey's  victim.  "Ton 
my  soul,  Dunbar,  if  you  can  get  that  unlucky  bit  of  paper 
out  of  old  Toffy's  clutches,  I  shall  never  know  how  to 
thank  you — upon  my  word  I  shan't." 

"  Wait  till  I've  done  it,  my  dear  boy ;  and  as  for  thanks, 
they  only  bore  me.  If  I  serve  any  man  I  like,  I  serve 
myself.  Here's  the  lobby.  You  go  to  some  other  box, 
keep  close  to  Van  or  the  colonel,  and  show  the  Covey 
the  rebellion's  begun."  With  which  advice  Dunbar 
threw  down  his  four  shillings,  took  off  his  undress-cap, 
and  proceeded  to  the  Covey's  box. 

There  were  the  Miss  Toffys  unchaperoned,  shining  in 
great  brilliance,  in  scarlet  opera-cloaks  and  paste  jewels. 


376  THE   DONKEYSHIEE   MILITIA. 

They  received  tlie  handsome  captain  with  great  cordi- 
ality. Sophy  was  always  very  sentimental  with  him, 
sighed  as  she  spoke  to  him,  and  put  flowers  and  such-like 
delicate  attentions  in  his  rooms — things  which  Dunbar, 
whose  head  was  just  then  full  of  higher  game,  was  scarcely 
so  touched  by  as  Sophy  anticipated.  Dunbar's  object 
being  conciliation,  he  made  himself  very  agreeable  to  the 
Covey  during  the  first  act  of  "  The  Stranger,"  which 
livery  and-inspiriting  play  the  manager  had  selected  for 
his  first  representation.  Regardless  of  the  averted  eyes 
and  shocked  feelings  of  the  few  Snobletonians  of  the 
dress  circle,  Dunbar,  intent  on  Charlie's  business,  was 
talking  and  laughing,  leaning  against  the  side  of  the  box, 
his  sash  touching  Sophy's  black  ringlets,  when,  putting 
his  glass  in  his  eye  to  look  round  the  house,  he  saw 
Beatrice  De  Vaux  sitting  in  the  centre  box,  her  soft,  long 
eyes,  now  haughty  and  flashing,  fixed  on  him. 

"  If  that  isn't  the  very  devil !"  thought  Dunbar.  "  The 
deuce !  she  may  have  been  here  these  twenty  minutes, 
and  if  she  thinks  herself  neglected  for  the  Covey,  I  shah 
have  been  and  gone  and  done  it  with  a  vengeance!" 
With  which  consolatory  reflection  he  summarily  left  the 
Toffys  and  went  into  the  De  Vaux's  box.  Yv'ith  the  re- 
membrance of  his  parting  words  to  her,  and  her  answer 
(by  eyes,)  anything  but  repulsive,  Dunbar  naturally  bent 
down  towards  Beatrice  with  still  more  empressemerU  than 
ever,  and  looked  a  continuation  of  his  valedictory  ad- 
dress. But  Beatrice  sat  pale  and  reserved,  with  her  eyes 
fixed  unswervingly  on  the  stage,  replied  to  his  cpiestions 
with  cool  monosyllables,  and  behaved  so  wholly  unlike 
her  usual  soft,  winning,  lively  self,  that  Dunbar's  pride, 
quite  as  unmanageable  and  hard-moulded  an  animal  as 
hers,  began  to  take  fright  and  to  kick  at  its  traces.  Per- 
haps his  love  was  unwelcome;  besides,  possibly  her  si- 


THE  DONKEYSHIEE   MILITIA.  377 

lence  had  meant  dissent  in  the  morning,  and  at  the  idea 
my  lord  rose  in  his  stirrups  and  turned  restive.  Proud, 
hisfh-mettled  Dunbar  would  have  shot  himself  rather  than 
urge  an  unacceptable  suit.  The  memory,  too  of  a  thous- 
and encouragements  she  had  given  him  spurred  him  up 
to  hiding  from  this  little  coquette  all  she  cost  him;  so 
he  crushed  down  all  he  suffered,  and,  turning  away  from 
Beatrice,  began  talking  and  laughing  with  Connynghame 
And  the  twro  who  had  talked  love  in  the  morning,  parted 
with  a  chill  " good  evening!"  that  night. 


V. 

A    BALL AN    ACCIDENT AND    A    WEDDLNG. 

The  next  night  we  gave  a  ball  in  conjunction  with  the 
yeomanry — noble  creatures,  who  scpieezed  themselves 
into  tight  green  jackets,  and  mounted  fat  cart-horses, 
one  week,  annually,  when  their  manoeuvres  were  a  sight 
second  in  grandeur  only  to  our  own. 

The  yeomen,  being  volunteers,  weren't  excluded  from 
their  officers'  ball.  Dunbar  tried  hard  to  keep  'em  out, 
but  it  wouldn't  do.  It  was  the  custom  for  Strap  the 
leatherseUer's  and  Last  the  bootmaker's  wives  to  dance 
in  the  same  room  with  the  De  Vaux,  the  Fitzcockywhoops 
and  the  Pursangs  of  Donkeyshire;  and  dance  they 
would,  for  ah  Dunbar  or  anybody  else. 

Dunbar  chanced  to  be  talking  to  the  unlucky  Covey  as 
Beatrice  entered.  She  was  close  to  me,  and  I  thought  I 
saw  tears  in  her  eyes,  but  I  wasn't  sure ;  at  any  rate,  she 
turned  her  head,  so  that  Dunbar  couldn't  see  her,  and 
went  up  the  room  as  dignified  as  Sir  Cadwallader  him- 
self, though  she  flushed  scarlet  when  Dunbar,  after  waltz- 
ing with  Adeliza  Fitzcockeywhoop,  whirled  round  one  of 
the  rose  tarlatans  in  a  gallop. 


378  THE  DOXKEYSHIEE   MILITIA. 

"The  devil,  Dunbar,"  said  I  that  night,  when  we  got 
home  to  "  notre  magasin,"  "  the  other  day  you  and  Beat- 
rice were  playing  at  Strepkon  and  Chloris;  now  you 
won't  speak  to  each  other.     What  does  it  all  mean?" 

"It  means  that  I've  been  a  fool,"  said  he,  his  teeth 
clenched  hard  on  his  pipe  as  he  sat  looking  steadily  into 
the  fire.  "  I've  let  a  woman  get  a  hold  on  me,  so  that 
she  can  make  me  happy  or  miserable  like  a  raw  boy  of 
sixteen.  My  God!  how  mad  I  have  been  to  care  so 
much  for  her !" 

His  face  turned  as  white  as  death,  and  the  veins  on 
his  hand  swelled  like  cords  as  he  grasped  the  arm  of  the 
chair.     I  stared  at  him. 

"  By  Jove,  Dunbar,  I'd  no  idea  it  was  anything  so  seri- 
ous !" 

He  laughed — very  dreary  mirth  it  was — as  he  rose, 
saying: 

"  A  man  always  makes  a  fool  of  himself  some  time  in 
his  life,  you  know,  Yan.  My  turn's  come  at  last.  I've 
made  playthings  of  women  all  these  years;  it's  poetical 
justice  that  one  of  'em  should  give  me  a  turn  at  last. 
But  .  .  .  God  help  me !  I  never  thought  any  one  would 
have  power  to  torture  me  as  she  does !" 

"With  which  Dunbar,  who  was  rarely  communicative 
about  his  private  feelings,  bade  me  an  abrupt  "  Good 
night,"  and  shut  his  bedroom  door  with  a  clang.  The 
next  morning,  when  we  came  off  parade,  Dunbar  found 
Sophy  Toffy  putting  some  china-asters  in  a  vase  on  his 
mantelpiece.  She  could  see  him  perfectly  come  in  by  the 
mirror;  but  she  let  him  get  up  to  her  before  she  gave  a 
start  and  a  little  scream,  and  began  to  apologise  for  be- 
ing there.  Dunbar,  feeling  tired,  grave,  and  miserable, 
consigned  her  mentally  to  his  Satanic  Majesty;  but,  hav- 
ing Charlie's  cause  in  view,  made  her  pretty  speeches, 
and   drew  her   into   talking  over  the  luckless   ensign's 


THE  DONKEYSHIRE   MILITIA.  379 

promise  of  marriage.  Sophy  cried  and  sentimentalised 
over  her  sister's  deceived  affections,  which  pathos  Dun- 
bar pooh-poohed  very  soon,  and  induced  her  to  look  at 
the  subject  froni  a  business  point  of  view,  proving  the 
utter  hopelessness  of  Charlie's  ever  fulfilling  the  contract, 
and  offering  them  more  in  his  own  name  to  keep  the 
affair  quiet  than  they  would  ever  get  from  an  action. 
Sophy  was  at  last  gained  over  to  treating  the  matter,  as 
she  sold  meringues  and  muffins,  by  £  s.  d. ;  and  Dunbar, 
knowing  the  eloquence  most  clear  to  the  Covey's  intellect, 
rewarded  his  new  ally  with  flowery  compliments,  and  a 
touch  of  his  moustache  on  her  brunette  cheek. 

That  afternoon  he  galloped  over  to  Springley;  Sir  Cad- 
wallader  received  him  rather  stiffly,  told  him  he  had  sent 
Beatrice  for  a  month  to  Hastings  with  her  aunt,  and 
Dunbar,  repressing,  out  of  regard  for  Charlie,  a  strong 
desire  to  tell  the  priggish  old  baronet  that  but  for  him 
he'd  have  had  a  confectioner's  daughter  for  his  belle-fille, 
trotted  back  to  mess  more  down  in  the  mouth  than  he, 
gay,  brilliant  Latakia,  would  have  been  supposed  capa- 
ble  of  being  under  the  gloomiest   circumstances. 

Charlie  was  sitting  in  his  lodgings  buried  in  an  arm- 
chair, his  feet  on  the  mantelpiece,  smoking,  and  reading  a 
French  novel.  Down  on  the  fiftieth  page  of  "  Amaran- 
the,  ou  les  Mysteres  de  Versailles,"  fell  a  sheet  of  note-pa- 
per; Charlie  caught  it  up  with  a  shout  as  he  saw  his  un- 
happy promise  to  make  the  charming  Fanny  Mrs.  De 
Vaus,  and  felt  Dunbar's  hand  laid  on  his  shoulder  ! 

"  No  thanks,  young  fellow  !  Let  the  warning  keep  you 
out  of  similar  scrapes,  that's  all,  when  I  mayn't  be  by  to 
act  guardian  angel." 

"  On  my  word,  Dunbar,  I  don't  know  how  to  thank 
you  enough,"  cried  Charlie.  "  You're  a  deuced  good 
fellow — on  my  honor,  you  are !     But   the  Covey  didn't 


380  THE   DONKEYSHIEE   MILITIA. 

Jet  you  have  this  for  nothing,  or  if  they  did,  old  Toffy 
wouldn't." 

"Of  course  not,  my  juvenile.  But  nevermind  that; 
you  couldn't  pay  the  damage  without  recourse  to  the 
governor  or  the  Jews;  it  will  be  time  enough  to  settle 
with  me  when  you  come  into  the  title." 

Beatrice  came  home  one  Tuesday  morning  in  Decem- 
ber, and  that  same  morning,  quite  by  chance,  Dunbar 
and  Charlie  drove  over  to  Springley  for  some  pheasant 
shooting.  The  keepers  and  beaters  were  waiting  for 
them  at  the  lodge,  so  that  they  hadn't  to  waste  time  by 
going  up  to  the  house,  but  went  at  once  to  the  covers. 

The  sport  was  very  good.  Dunbar  was  a  splen- 
did shot,  and  when  they  threw  themselves  down  un- 
der a  hedge  to  refresh  themselves  with  cold  capon  and 
Guinness's,  both  were  tolerably  satisfied  with  their  morn- 
ing's work. 

"  Why  look  there,  that's  Pussy  strolling  along  by  her- 
self," cried  Charlie  as  they  finished  their  luncheon.  And 
he  looked  over  the  hedge.  "  She  didn't  use  to  be  so  par- 
tial to  solitary  promenades  in  the  park." 

Dunbar's  heart  beat  as  fast  as  an  express  train  as  he 
saw  a  form  in  a  grey  hat,  and  black  jacket,  and  scarlet 
petticoat,  showing  tiny  kid  boots  to  perfection,  walking 
unconsciously  towards  them,  with  five  or  six  dogs  about 
her. 

"  Go  through  the  gap,  and  speak  to  her.  Where  on 
earth  is  your  politeness  gone  ?"  laughed  Charlie. 

Dunbar,  longing  to  go,  yet  not  sure  that  it  would  be 
welcome,  pushed  his  way  through  a  break  in  the  hedge, 
and  went  towards  her.  Charlie  followed  him  quickly  ; 
the  trigger  of  his  gun  caught  on  a  twig,  went  off,  and 
Dunbar,  putting  his  hand  to  his  side,  gave  a  low  cry, 
and  fell  forward  on  the  turf. 

"  Good  Heavens !     I  Lave  killed  him,"  shrieked  the  boy. 


THE  BONKEYSHIRE   MILITIA.  381 

"  I  have  murdered  my  friend,  my  dearest  friend,"  as  lie 
threw  himself  beside  Dunbar,  distracted  with  grief  and 
terror.  But  with  a  cry  ten  times  more  full  of  anguish 
even  than  his  was,  Beatrice  ran  up  and  dropped  on  her 
knees,  her  face  blanched,  and  her  eyes  wild,  as  she  spoke 
almost  inarticulately:  "He  will  die — he  will  die!  Go 
for  help — go  at  once.  Do  you  not  hear  ?  Not  that  way," 
she  cried,  mad  for  the  moment  with  agony,  "  the  lodge 
is  nearer.  Send  the  men  up  to  the  house.  Go,  go !  or 
he  will  die !" 

Charlie,  scarcely  conscious  of  what  he  did,  staggered 
off  to  the  lodge,  while  keepers  and  beaters  flew  all  ways, 
some  to  the  house,  some  for  the  nearest  surgeon. 

Beatrice  knelt  beside  him,  supporting  his  head  against 
her,  holding  her  cobweb  handkerchief  to  stanch  the  blood 
flowing  fast  from  his  side,  while  the  dew  stood  on  her 
brow,  and  her  heart  stopped  its  throbs.  Unused  as  she 
was  to  such  scenes,  his  ashy  lips,  his  closed  eyes,  the 
deadly  pallor  of  his  face  seemed  death  itself  ;  and  Beat- 
rice, as  she  bent  over  him,  learning  how  much  she  loved 
him,  believing  that  his  life  was  stiUed  for  ever,  kissed  his 
cold  brow  as  though  to  call  him  back  to  existence,  and 
prayed  for  her  own  life  to  be  taken  if  only  his  might  be 
spared.  She  forgot  all  about  the  Covey  then.  As  con- 
sciousness came  back  to  him,  he  felt  her  hot  tears  on  his 
cheek,  and,  slowly  unclosing  his  eyes,  saw  her  face  bend- 
ing over  him.  "  Do  you  love  me,  Beatrice  ?"  said  Dunbar, 
faintly. 

"Yes,  yes,"  murmured  Beatrice,  thick  sobs  choking 
her  voice,  and  the  blood  rushing  into  her  cheeks.  "  You 
will  live  yet,  oh,  thank  Heaven!" 

"You  love  me," repeated  Dunbar,  ectasy  beaming  in 
his  face  ;  then  his  eyes  closed,  and  his  head  fell  back  on 
her  knee  in  utter  unconsciousness  again. 

It  was  not  long  before  poor  Charlie,  half  beside  him- 


382  THE   D0NKEYSH1EE   MILITIA. 

self,  calling  himself  a  murderer,  wishing  himself  dead 
and  Heaven  knows  what  other  awful  retribution,  came 
back,  with  half  the  servants  and  Sir  Cadwallader  himself, 
who  was  secretly  scandalized  at  seeing  Beatrice  with  a 
man's  head  on  her  knee  and  her  hand  held  to  his  side, 
but  couldn't,  under  the  circumstances,  lecture  her  there- 
on. They  put  him  on  a  stretcher  and  took  him  up  to 
the  house,  where  the  surgeons  pronounced  no  danger  at 
all,  and  extracted  the  shots  very  easily.  He  was  on  the 
sick  list  some  time  though,  jDOor  old  fellow,  but  found  it 
very  pleasant  to  be  petted,  and  waited  on,  and  fed  with 
every  delicacy  she  could  think  of,  and  made  much  of  by 
such  a  nurse  as  Beatrice,  till  he  couldn't  in  conscience 
call  himself  even  convalescent  any  longer.  During  that 
long  convalescent  time,  when  she  read,  and  sang,  and 
played  to  him,  and  wouldn't  let  him  lift  his  hand  for  fear 
of  over-exertion,  they  came,  you're  sure,  to  mutual  expla- 
nations ;  and  Dunbar  said  he  never  was  so  obliged  to  any 
man  as  he  was  to  Charlie  for  shooting  him.  Beatrice 
showed  him  how  naturally  the  attention  she  saw  him  pay 
the  Covey  verified  the  reports  she  had  heard ;  but 
assured  him  words  coidd  never  tell  ah  she  had  suffered, 
how  much  she  had  loved  him,  and  so  on  ad  infinitum, 
Charlie,  in  the  agonies  of  remorse,  had  confided  to  his 
governor  the  affair  of  the  Covey,  and  Sir  Cadwallader, 
when  Dunbar  informed  him  in  a  decided  manner  that 
he  wished  to  marry  his  daughter,  couldn't  very  well  have 
refused  ;  indeed,  I  don't  know  that  he  desired  to  do  so, 
for  Lennox  was  as  good  blood  as  the  De  Vaux,  and  had 
"  very  fair  expectations." 

The  20th  of  February  was  Dunbar's  wedding-day, 
and  we  came  out  in  full  force  in  the  Springley  church. 
There  were  a  dozen  bridesmaids,  harassing  visions  of 
whom,  in  white  tulle  and  holly  wreaths,  tortured  Spoon 
and  shook  Pop's  fidelity  for  months  afterwards.     There 


THE   DONKEYSHIRE   MILITIA.  383 

were  all  the  Fitzcockywkoops  and  Pursangs,  a  sprinkling 
from  the  Peerage  and  Baronetage,  and  a  good  dash  of 
the  Army  and  Navy.  I'm  afraid  there  was  more  fun 
and  nonsense  at  the  breakfast  than  Sir  Cadwallader 
quite  liked  or  thought  good  ton,  but  it  was  a  jolly  affair 
altogether,  though  Dunbar  worked  himself  nearly  into  a 
fever  with  impatience  at  it,  and  was  in  a  state  bordering 
on  distraction  till  he  got  Beatrice  safe  in  the  carriage 
and  sprang  in  himself,  with  a  hasty  "  Good-by,  old 
fellows  I" 

It  was  our  last  mess  in  the  Marquis's  Arms.  On  the 
morrow,  farewell  to  Georgie  and  to  Adela,  to  the  Covey 
and  cozy  luncheons  in  "  notre  magasin,"  to  easy  parades 
and  mock  rounds  and  feather-bed  soldiering  in  sleepy 
Snobleton.  We  sat  late  and  drank  deep,  toasting  our 
lost  loves  and  bewailing  our  destinies,  cursing  the  "War- 
office  that  wrote  out  our  Kismet,  and  laughing  loud  over 
Popleton's  poetic  fire,  which,  -wrought  upon  by  circum- 
stances, and  inspired  by  whisky,  found  vent  in  the  fol- 
lowing effusion,  delivered  with  some  hesitation  and  a 
few  sighs,  and  a  vast  deal  of  drinking  on  the  poet's 
part : 

SNOBLETON'S    LAMENT. 

A  LAY  OF  FEBRUARY,   1855. 

'Tis  over,  'tis  over,  the  pang  is  past, 

The  militia  is  gone — is  gone  at  last ! 

They  are  "gone  from  our  gaze  like  a  beautiful  dream," 

And  are  whistled  away  by  an  engine  and  steam. 

And  oh  !  for  the  pen  of  a  Muse  to  declare 

The  heartrending  woe  of  the  brave  and  the  fair  ; 

No  lay  of  Childe  Harold,  no  poem  of  Poe, 

Was  ever  so  sad  as  the  tale  of  our  woe. 

Ah!  little,  too  little,  the  Horse  Guards  can  guess 

Of  the  pain  thej  have  caused  by  ordaining  the  mess, 

To  remove  to  that  horrid,  detestable  camp, 

Wheu  tlie  snow's  on  the  ground  and  the  weather  so  damp  I 


384  THE  DONKEYSHIRE  MILITIA. 

The  last  clay  has  come,  and  the  last  clay  has  past, 

The  bills  and  the  billets-doux  both  rained  in  fast, 

But  despite  ev'ry  obstacle  off  they  are  sent, 

And  poor  Snobleton's  doomed  to  a  very  triste  Lent. 

"Notre  magasin  "  >s  shut,  and  deserted  its  halls, 

The  Covey  will  figure  no  more  at  the  balls  ; 

Latakia  and  Spicer  have  both  taken  wing, 

And  all  that  is  left  of  dear  Charlie's  a  ring  ; 

Fair  Adela's  spirits  to  zero  have  sunk, 

And  poor  Georgie  Pop's  in  a  very  great  funk. 

The  Backboard's  fair  students  may  slumber  in  peace, 

Not  again  will  our  Spoon  risk  the  wrath  of  police  ! 

The  cricket-field's  silent,  no  more  the  drum's  beat 

Is  heard  as  our  fellows  defile  down  the  street. 

"The  milishee's  a  coming  !"  was  whilom  the  cry 

That  saluted  our  ears  as  the  colonel  rode  by  ; 

But  the  town's  silent  now,  from  the  north  to  the  souta. 

And  cigar-shops  look  very  much  down  In  the  mouth. 

Ladies  and  ladies'  maids  neither  can  sleep, 

And  even  a  bridegroom  o'er  whisky  did  weep, 

As  he  thought  of  the  Monday  nights'  whist  and  the  loo, 

And  bade  his  East  Doukeyshire  comrades  adieu. 

And  "Pussy,"  too,  Springley's  particular  star— 

Latakia  has  stolen  and  whirled  off  afar ; 

But  long  shall  we  think  of  her  sweet  dancing  eyes, 

And  bid  her  "  God  speed  !"  wheresoever  she  flies. 

So,  farewell  to  ye,  mess-room  Amphitryons  all  I 

Farewell,  ye  frequenters  of  race,  hunt,  and  ball  I 

Farewell,  to  ye,  gentle  reunions  for  loo  ! 

Farewell,  to  ye,  officers,  clever  and  moux  ! 

May  you  never  know  sorrow  a  tenth  part  so  great 

As  the  fair  ones  of  Snobleton  suffered  oflate, 

When  their  Donkeyshire  darlings  were  cruelly  sent 

From  boudoir  and  drawing-room  to  barrack  and  tent, 

To  practise  the  goose-step  and  study  the  drill, 

While,  in  the  flirting-rooms,  silent  and  still, 

Their  Calypsos,  forsaken,  bewail  the  dear  corps, 

And  in  tears  vote  the  Horse  Guards  a  terrible  bore, 

For  snatching  from  carpet-dance,  pic-nic,  and  ball, 

The  Donkeyshire  heroes,  so  dear  to  them  all  I 


THE  END. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


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